The Blue Hair Job
by Comfortably Red
Summary: The team is asked to help an elderly woman and her friends who are being victimized by an unscrupulous service, but will Parker's new friendship cost a team member their life? Team-centric.
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers:** Possible spoilers up to mid-season three.

**Author's Note:** So this is my first foray into Leverage fan fiction. I tried to do a straight up job from in-between the episodes. Thanks to my long suffering readers, Perky (listed first because he claims to have been suffering longer) and Jaira. :p

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable Leverage characters, settings, and so on are the property of their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them.

**Summary:** The Leverage team is called in to help an elderly woman and her friends, but there may be more to the job than they realize. What happens when the marks have plans of their own?

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><p><strong>The Blue Hair Job<strong>

**Meet and Drinks**

"Are you sure you should be drinking that?"

"Why not? Everyone else is drinking," the octogenarian pointed out as she motioned to the room full of John McRory's customers. "What kind of person comes to a bar and doesn't drink?" Rose looked to her companion and then pulled the glass of whiskey closer. "Besides, I enjoy a good nip on a cold day."

"I thought you quit drinking some years ago," the younger woman, Marisa, said.

"Did I? I seem to have forgotten." Rose smiled as she sipped the honey-colored liquid.

"Only when it suits you," Marisa said with a soft huff. "You shouldn't be drinking with your medication."

Rose waved an arthritic hand. "A little won't kill me."

Marisa shook her head before turning toward the man and woman sitting across from them at the table. "I'm sorry about Rose, she—"

"Knows how to enjoy herself," Sophie Devereaux finished. She couldn't help but to smile at the exchange.

"I'm disappointed they didn't card me," Rose complained. She sat her drink down on the napkin in front of her and eyed Nathan Ford. "Do you really think you can help us? You're not some sort of schemer, are you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Nate heard Sophie's soft laugh. Shifting in his seat, he reached for his cup of Irish coffee. They were in a bar after all. "Well, ma'am—"

"I'm not a ma'am," the older woman cut in. "I'm a Rose or a Mrs. Brewster, if you must. I never let my students call me ma'am back in the day and I won't start now."

Appropriately reprimanded, Nate smirked as he drew his drink closer. "Forgive me. Rose. I have been called many things but I don't think schemer is one of them."

"I think that's a pretty accurate assessment," Sophie purred.

Nate just looked at her.

"What?" She didn't even play innocent.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the other two women. "So, your concern about Mr. Winslow's death."

"Bernard's death was ruled an accident," Marisa said. "That may very well be the truth; he was 92. Heavily dependent on a walker to get around. Even then, it was getting very difficult." She glanced at Rose. "It was time for a nursing home."

"Bernard wasn't clumsy." Rose tapped the table showing her displeasure. "He used to work on roofs with my dear William. They were the best of friends." Her gaze shifted with some unspoken memory. "Had perfect balance. The man had to be part monkey."

"Look," Marisa began even as she reached out to Rose and patted the pink sweater that covered her shoulder. "Bernard's health was failing. We both know that." She turned to meet Nate's even gaze. "His mind was still sharp. No one could explain why his watch and wedding ring were missing. He never took them off. He kept Emily's cross with her picture by his bed. He didn't give them away. He didn't sell them." She pushed a dark strand of curly hair back from her face. "His death was ruled an accident. Things were financially tight for him, and we can't prove he had any of those items prior to his death. The police say just because there is no record of him selling or giving them away doesn't automatically mean they were stolen. There's no reason for suspicion."

"But you're suspicious," Nate said.

"Of course I'm suspicious!" Rose was adamant. "I've known Bernard for more than sixty years." She grabbed her purse, sitting it in her lap and searched through the main compartment. Producing a lavender piece of paper, she slid it across the table to Nate with a shaky hand.

Nate took the paper and unfolded it. There were at least a dozen names and detailed lists of different items each claimed had gone missing.

"We've been playing detective," Rose said proudly. "I talked to all my friends at the senior center and some of them are missing things too. These aren't things they would just lose or give away and forget about."

Sophie leaned closer to Nate and he caught a whiff of her perfume. Something expensive. Probably from some exclusive boutique in Paris.

"Almost all of it is jewelry," Sophie noted.

"I've been searching pawn shops in my free time," Marisa began, "on the wisdom that stolen jewelry and such end up in places like that. I found Bernard's watch and a necklace that belonged to Mrs. McGillicutty at this place in Belbridge. It's called Lucky A's Pawn and Loan." Her words drifted off, as her gaze grew distant. "I think if something happened to Bernard, and whoever took his things knows I've been snooping around."

Shock lit Rose's blue eyes. "What?"

"I think someone has been watching me since I got the watch and necklace back."

Nate was still going over the list. He had expected there to be other victims, he just didn't expect the list to be handed to him so readily.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Rose asked. Worried.

"I don't think they are following us. Not today. Everyone thinks I'm taking you to a specialist here in Boston."

"Oh," Rose said with a look of understanding. She shook her white crowned head. "Oh. That's why that nosy Mary Holland kept asking me what was wrong and if I was going to that new medical center." Rose stopped and looked at Sophie and then to Nate. "It's embarrassing to not be able to take care of yourself. People come and take whatever they want. Bernard, in his youth was a fighter. He wouldn't take guff from no one and would as soon put them on the ground than let someone run over him or anyone he cared about." The fight seemed to drain from her. "But he grew old. He couldn't fight back. Do you understand?"

Nate nodded. His thoughts drifted to a life before. "It's not just helplessness. There's frustration. Anger. Grief. You think that you should be able to take care of everything, fix every problem, but you can't. You feel completely alone." He leaned back in his chair, the list falling to the table in front of him. "You don't have to be." From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a business card and a pen. Pausing, he looked to Marisa. "Do you feel like you are still in danger?" His tone was subdued.

"No," Marisa said with a shake of her head. "It's scary. I won't lie. After I realized someone was watching me, I quit looking for stuff, quit going to the pawnshops. I just shut up and they seem to have backed off." She laughed. "I guess that's all they wanted."

"Don't involve yourself anymore," Nate said calmly. He pressed the card to the table and scribbled Eliot's contact information on it. "If you think you or Rose are in danger, don't hesitate to call this number."

Relief washed over Marisa as she took the card and looked it over. She then pressed her hand to Rose's. Confusion lit her features. "What kind of investigators are you exactly?"

Nate smiled. "Let's just say we take up where the law leaves off."


	2. Chapter 2

**In the Trenches**

Frozen earth crunched under steady footfalls as Eliot Spencer took up quiet position in an alley between an empty storefront and the condemned husk of an apartment building. The yellow painted brick walls of the apartment building bulged toward the alley as if further proof was needed that the structure was unsound.

When he cased the neighborhood the night before, dim lights seeped from gaps in the plywood that covered the windows. The building was not empty. Something else to be aware of, he thought, just as he was keen to be aware of people milling about and working their way along the broken sidewalks that lined the streets. There wasn't much activity, but enough.

A layer of frost gave a milky, needle-like covering to the myriad of debris. Bitter winds whipped through the narrow passage, crackling old leaves and wadded up newspapers scattered about. The frozen world did not—could not—hide the stench of bile and decay. Even subtle, the old smells reminded Eliot of darkened place and narrow passageways in cities like Yangon, Belgrade, and the slums on the outskirts of Paris.

And that one time in Gibraltar.

Shaking off the distraction, he moved closer to the alley entrance and fresher air. Eliot found a small niche behind the crumbled brick where he had a clear view of Lucky A's Pawn and Loan on the opposite corner.

Burying his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, he rested a shoulder against the apartment building wall. No telling how long he would have to wait.

_"How's it look?"_ Nate asked from mission control. Lucille was sitting next to a used car lot half a block away just out of sight of the pawnshop.

"Quiet." Which didn't necessarily mean trouble that could just be a state of normal, but Eliot wasn't apt to let his guard down. "There hasn't been any movement in the last hour."

He had done a walk around the pawnshop just before dawn broke, examining up close the various entrances and exits. It was important to know what the alley behind the building and the attached row of shops looked like and where it let out. There was also an opening about midway down the alley. A few fenced-in back lots. Details that might be important later.

The front door, decorated with the same iron bars as the sparse windows, opened and a man stepped out. He looked about and then headed down sidewalk along the row of rundown shops.

Eliot shrugged into the warmth of his hoodie and jacket, pulling the grey fleece hood lower over his face. He waited until the man was far enough down the block before reporting. "Lunch time."

* * *

><p>"What a lovely neighborhood," Sophie said as she pulled her silver car into one of the spaces in front of the pawnshop. She glanced about before putting the car in park and cutting the engine. While she wasn't alone, and this was hardly the worst neighborhood she had been in, her thoughts returned to the friendly caregiver. Marisa was out of her element and showed an incredible amount of determination and bravery to go investigating lost items in a place like this.<p>

Perhaps it was just naïveté and dumb luck. The grifter had stumbled into her share of situations that she still didn't know how she escaped with her life.

From the passenger side seat, she grabbed an oversized purse that glowed a garish pink with big, white polka dots and dragged it out of the car with her. Taking a moment to adjust her sunglasses and flip back her loose hair, she composed herself before crossing the sidewalk to the shop door.

A part of her wondered if the heavy protective bars that decorated the door and windows were to keep people out or in. Seemed rather uninviting.

Opening the door to a loud chime, she marched into the brightly lit shop. Dropping her hand behind her, she pressed a tiny camera next to a torn poster half-secured to the wall. The bright colors of her dress were sharp under the fluorescent lighting. The showroom was a lot smaller than she expected after having given the building exterior a thorough look over when she arrived.

A few steps in, she paused to push her sunglasses up on her head and adjusted her blouse to make sure the tiny button camera she wore was in position. Spying a man standing in a doorway behind a row of glass counters, she gave him a warm smile and headed straight for the jewelry counter.

_"Go, Parker,"_ Nate's voice carried over the in-ear communications.

"Maybe you can help a distressed damsel out." Her buttery words drew the man's undivided attention. Tears welled in her eyes on command threatening to send her cheap mascara running. "Can you believe it? My maid of honor. She was my best friend!" She sputtered as she leaned against the counter and took a good look at the contents of the jewelry case. "I should have known you couldn't trust a used car salesman."

"Sounds like a real bastard," the grey bearded man said. "What can I do for you?" A beat. "Miss?"

"Lydia," she said offering him her hand. Sophie recognized him from the intelligence Hardison had gathered as Alan Cobb, owner of Lucky A's Pawn and Loan. His business partner, Felix Gerhardt, had just left on a walkabout.

Ignoring the raking look that Cobb gave her. She dropped her heavy purse onto the scratched counter abutting the jewelry case and screeched, "Two days! Can you believe that?" She shook her head dramatically, and then clutched the antique silver and diamond ring she wore and pulled it off as if disgusted with the sight of it. The ring clattered and clang as it bounced across the countertop. "Barry insisted that I give it back to him."

Cobb silently picked up the ring. Grabbing a jeweler's glass, he studied the magnified cluster of small stones. "I can't believe someone would cheat on such a classy gal like you."

Sophie leaned into the counter and laughed. "Shocking, isn't it?" She shifted to catch the corner of the display counter. A little sniffle escaped her. "I thought he was the one."

_"We need the left side of the counter. Your left. No. Wait. That's good,"_ Hardison said in her ear.

"Might as well give him a show," Sophie whispered as she leaned a little further forward, giving Cobb a good, unobstructed view down her low-buttoned blouse. "How much will you give me for it? The ring belonged to Barry's grandmother. It's been in his family for generations." At least, that's what that gentleman in Montreal told her. Speaking in the even tone of a woman scorned, "He should have thought about that before cheating on me."


	3. Chapter 3

Nate rocked back in his chair and knocked the wall of Lucille's cramped quarters. He absently grunted what passed for an apology, but never took his eyes off the display showing the view from Sophie's button camera.

"Hey, careful man," Hardison said as he reached back to inspect any potential damage to his baby. After a moment, he turned back to the twin displays. With one hand, he raised the 2-liter bottle of orange soda to his lips and the other tapped a command on the keyboard. The second display lit up with a view of the shop from the camera Sophie had placed on entrance.

"I'm not seeing anything on Rose's list," Hardison said as he glanced from the Rose's lavender paper to one of the displays and back.

Doing his own quick investigation, Nate also found the shop lacking. He shook his head. "If they considered Marisa a problem, anything incriminating would be long gone."

Except the mastermind was betting these guys weren't that sharp.

His gaze jumped from one display to the other verifying Cobb's place at the front of the store. "Where are you, Parker?"

* * *

><p>"There are, like, five rusty locks on this door," Parker complained as she was finally getting to the last lock. A good thing she wasn't timing herself.<p>

Worst. Record. Ever.

Once finished, she turned the knob and gently pushed the heavy metal door open. Rusted metal on metal squealed the instant the door swung back causing Parker to freeze. Squeezing her eyes closed with a pained expression; she waited with held breath in the pressing silence that followed.

"What do you mean cubic zirconium?" Sophie's wail was so powerful that Parker didn't need the ear bud to hear the agony in the grifter's voice. _"Barry said it was worth a lot!"_ Sophie sounded close to tears.

Parker slipped into the back of the pawnshop only to find it filled with overflowing racks. "Wow, there's so much junk," she noted as she carefully closed the door behind her.

Noticing a pretty little vase, the thief hovered near a shelf with many deep layers of dust and plucked the singular object from its place. Glancing about to make sure no one was watching, she tipped the vase over.

Made in China.

She sniffed the intricately painted design and suddenly grabbed her nose to stifle a dust driven sneeze. Tears welled in her eyes, but she could see clearly enough to put the offending fake back in its place.

The room pulsed with the glow of an overhead light that flickered and dimmed. Her gaze darted about the corners and high ceiling to make sure there was no unexpected security. Hardison's intel had said the place had only cameras out front—recorded on tape. Tape. Hardison had laughed at that word. She giggled softly, though not entirely sure why Hardison found it so funny.

Past the shelves and onto the next obstacle, she easily worked the double locks on a wooden door. These were in better shape and gave her no resistance though she was a little more careful opening this door to the combination office and buy room. Once inside, she glanced about the shelves and wasn't certain the contents were any better quality than in the storage area she had left.

"I'm in."

First, she slipped the little USB device from her belt pouch and looked at the computer half-buried in folders and trash on the desk. With the tip of a long finger, she carefully scooted a wadded up hamburger wrapper out of the way and plugged the drive into the nearest port.

The screen of the old CRT lighted up, and Parker jerked back. Leaning forward she studied the image burning into the screen. "Oh no, Mr. Teddy Bear," she whispered and immediately slapped her hand over her mouth.

_"Parker?"_ Nate asked.

She reached out and quickly turned off the monitor. "Nothing," she hissed and turned her attention to the desk drawers. Focus, she told herself. Finding a stack of colored papers in one drawer she pulled them out and flipped through the pile. Nothing but bills and old invoices. About to return the papers, she paused when she noticed the handgun nestled next to a rubber band ball and two banded stacks of ones.

_"Don't these people know we're in the twenty-first century? Seriously? Windows 98?"_ Hardison asked. _"There's nothing on the computer. Well, not nothing exactly—"_

_"You're looking for a ledger,"_ Nate interrupted.

Parker frowned as she scanned the dirty, crowded room. "There's a lot of paper in here. A real fire hazard."

_"No fires, Parker."_

"They steal from old people. _Poor_ old people," she snapped as she flipped through a pile of folders. "Oh wait. Got something here." Pulling out her phone, she quickly started scanning sheets.

Eliot's gruff whisper caught her attention. _"We've got a problem."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thanks to astridv, ronnie and PlatoDan who have been kind enough to reply. I truly appreciate it and like knowing if anyone is enjoying the story. :)

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><p>Sophie rubbed her nose with a tissue and listened to Eliot.<p>

_"Gerhardt's back."_

Her breath caught at the scrape and chime of the bell hanging over the door as it was pushed open. Between sniffles, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the other owner enter the shop.

Gerhardt breezed past her with little interest. She suspected if he had seen one crying woman in the shop, he'd seen a dozen. The crinkle of the yellow sandwich bag caught her attention, and the smell of fresh lettuce and bread reminded she hadn't had lunch yet.

"Did you bring me anything?" Cobb asked.

"No. Was I supposed to?" Gerhardt smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. Behind the counter, he went right for the only door leading to the back.

"Parker, get out of there," Sophie said quickly.

_"I'm almost into the safe."_

"Parker," Sophie repeated, but before she could say more, Gerhardt was pulling the door open.

The bell chimed as the front door flew open, freezing Gerhardt in place.

"Seriously?" Nate asked as he stormed into the shop looking quite disheveled. He had discarded his coat in the van, his blue shirt was unbuttoned, and sleeves were roughly pushed up to his elbows. There was a wild look in his eyes.

"Excuse me?" Sophie said with a growl. Planting a hand on her hip, she turned and glared at him.

Nate had a sudden desire to retreat. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Me?" Sophie's voice was indignant, and fire danced in her brown eyes.

The office door clicked closed, and the sandwich bag was discarded at the counter as Gerhardt turned to watch the fireworks.

* * *

><p>"Just give me a little longer," Parker whispered as she made the last turn of the dial. A smile and a little chill passed through her when she heard that oh so lovely click and the door opened. Like magic. Her eyes immediately went to a cloth bag sitting on top of a cigar box. Emptying the contents of the bag into her hand, she found a knotted mess. "Several diamond rings. Not big diamonds. Old settings. A gold cross."<p>

_"That's on the list,"_ Hardison confirmed.

Parker dumped the jewelry back into the bag and cinched the string tight and then grabbed a worn business card that the bag had been sitting on. She read the big letters printed in green ink. "Home Keepers."

* * *

><p>"You gave it to me."<p>

Never taking his eyes off Sophie, Nate held a hand out toward Cobb who was still holding the ring. "Well, the wedding is off. You canceled it. Remember?" He looked at the big man. "My property please."

"Don't give it to him," Sophie said as she stepped between Nate and the counter. "It might be a fake, but if he wants it back—"

"Fake?" Nate looked at Sophie and then to Cobb. Incredulous. "It's not a fake."

Cobb shifted his gaze to Gerhardt as if to make sure he had back up. "Dude, it's cut glass. Either you didn't know, or you were pulling one over on the lady."

"Lady?" Sophie purred and threw Cobb a smile. She turned her predatory look to Nate. "So which was it, Barry, love?"

Looking a little sheepish, Nate swallowed hard.

"How much will you give me for it?" Sophie asked, glancing over her shoulder at the two men.

"Fifty," Cobb offered.

"Fifty?" Nate scoffed and gave Cobb a dismissive wave. "The gold is worth more than that."

"I'll take it!" Sophie shot Nate a sharp look.

Cobb spoke up before Nate could object. "Hey, Felix, get me a form out of the office."

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><p><em>"Get out of there, Parker."<em>

Eliot's warning came too late for the thief. At the sound of the door, Parker closed the safe without further exploring the contents and ducked under the desk. Drawing her knees up close, she waited as Gerhardt made his way around.

Resisting the urge to move, Parker shifted her gaze and stared at the big black boots that were precariously close. The desk shook as one of the drawers was yanked open. Nate and Sophie's voices rose in the background.

The sound of shuffling papers was shortly followed by the loud bang of the drawer being slammed back into the desk. Parker shuddered along with the desk, but remained still until her ears quit ringing. Once she was sure that Gerhardt had left, she slowly edged into the open and peeked over the top of the desk.

The office door was wide open.

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><p>"Now, now, darling," Nate said in a placating tone. He held his hands up as he backed away from Sophie, moving so he could better see Gerhardt and the open door to the office. "It was just the one time."<p>

Eliot. _"I'll get Parker. You two get out."_

A loud crack reverberated through the store.

Nate clutched his stinging cheek. Tears welled in his left eye. "Ow!"

"That's one time too many!" Sophie stormed back to the counter and grabbed her purse and the ring out of Cobb's hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Thanks astridv for the review. You have no idea how much I appreciate it!

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><p>Clutching the felt bag and using Nate's pained cry as a cover, Parker made a rush for the storage room door. Just as she was about to slip through the door, she remembered the USB drive.<p>

After a quick glance toward Gerhardt, whose back was to her, she quickly retreated to the desk and freed the small device. A little gasp escaped her when she looked up and found Gerhardt staring right at her.

_"Go, Parker!"_ Nate barked. His voice was nearly drowned out by Sophie's hysterics.

Parker bolted.

"Thief!" Gerhardt was quick.

Slipping past the large man, Parker stole into the storage room and whipped around one of the tall racks. Powerful fingers nearly got a secure grip on her shoulder before she managed to twist free. Just a step ahead, Parker grabbed the little Chinese vase from the shelf and blew across it's dusty surface.

A cloud of powder flew into Gerhardt's face. He made a choking sound and dropped back giving Parker an opening to make her exit. The back door flew open just ahead of her.

"Coming through!" she yelled as she brushed past Eliot into the alley.

Gerhardt barreled toward the opening, reaching for Parker a second time. Just as he caught her wrist, Eliot's elbow connected with his jaw. Gerhardt stumbled but did not loosen his hold. Parker pulled at the tight grip, but could not break free.

Eliot hit the door squarely with his shoulder catching Gerhardt's arm between the door and the jamb. Parker let out a startled yelp as she was suddenly released and stumbled ankle-deep into a nearby puddle.

"Go!" Eliot barked just as Gerhardt shoved the door open again.

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><p>"Hey, you two!" Nate heard Cobb call out the instant they slipped through the front door and raced to the car.<p>

"That didn't go very well," Sophie said as she threw herself into the driver's seat.

"Did you have to slap me so hard?" the mastermind asked as he got into the passenger's side.

"I had to make it believable."

Sophie had the car started and was backing out into the street before Nate managed to get his door closed. He gave Sophie a wide eyed look as she blew through the stop sign and onto the main. Horns blared behind her.

"The alley," Nate said. There were sounds of a scuffle over the ear bud. "Eliot?"

_"A little busy here!" _

* * *

><p>Gerhardt landed a sharp punch to Eliot's shoulder earning a pained grunt and forcing the hitter to shift to protect his shoulder from a second strike. Taking quick advantage, Gerhardt rammed the door, and then tried to deliver another hit but instead was caught in a feint.<p>

Eliot pinned Gerhardt's arm under his and kicked the door. The rusted metal shudder as it connected squarely with Gerhardt's forehead. When the door bounced back, Eliot kicked it again with similar results. Gerhardt lost his footing and fell backward into the shop.

Retreating a few steps, he brushed his hair back with a rough swipe and turned at the sound of squealing brakes.

"Come on!" the thief yelled as she raced to the silver car that was parked against traffic in front of the alley entrance.

Parker took the nearest door and Eliot sprinted to the other side. As Sophie stomped on the gas, he stole a last glance down the alley at the still open door.

A horn blared. "I didn't come close to hitting you!" Sophie called out to the offending vehicle as she whipped the car into the right lane. She turned a sharp eye at Nate. "I'll have you know that's not cubic zirconium."

Reaching for his seat belt, Nate sought out the side street that Lucille was parked on. "Hardison?"

* * *

><p>The hacker looked up from his phone just in time to see the silver car fly past. For once, he was quite grateful to be stuck in the van and would possibly think twice before complaining about it again.<p>

Maybe.

Starting the engine and shifting into gear, he allowed Lucille to creep up to a vandalized stop sign. There didn't seem to be any movement from outside the pawn shop. Traffic had returned to a normal flow.

Another glance at the phone. "There's nothing happening. Inside or out."

* * *

><p>Nate wished he had a drink. "All right," he said before straining against the seat belt to look at the two in the back. "Eliot? Parker?"<p>

"He was fast." Parker's words were matter-of-fact even if her gaze lingered on her reddened wrist. Brightening, she then held up the bag she had taken from the safe.

A nod. At least something went right, Nate consoled himself even as he began a silent review of what had happened.

Parker produced the two banded stacks of ones she had also liberated from the desk. Nuzzling against them like a warm puppy, she wondered out loud, "Why would they need extra one dollar bills? I'd rather have hundreds."

_"I can answer that,"_ the hacker broke in.

"We got it," Eliot snapped but kept his attention to the mirrors and reflections in storefront windows. Absently, he rubbed his elbow and then rotated his left shoulder checking the motion.

"Hardison. Update." Nate turned to face forward again in the seat but managed to catch a little smile from Sophie.

_"It's still quiet, man. Nothing. No calls in or out as far as I can tell. No police. No emergency. Not even calling their friends."_

The silence did not sit well with Nate.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks Stella for the review! I'm glad you are enjoying it!

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><p><strong>The Briefing<strong>

Alec Hardison paced in front of the bank of screens. "You know, I can do a lot of things—_a lot_ of things. I can retask satellites. Reading the White House email is child's play. But what I can't do is determine whether someone is good at paying attention based on whether they filed their tax return. I can tell you whether they have arrest records. Paid their cable bill lately. Beyond that I can't give you a feel for how they will react."

"I've got a feel for it," Eliot hissed as he pressed an ice pack to his shoulder. Closing his eyes, he hoped the burn that flared with every movement would quickly pass into that ever familiar dull ache.

From his placement at the desk, Eliot could hear everyone's movements about the apartment. Hardison was still pacing, pausing, and clicking on that remote while he studied the screens. Parker was fiddling with the blinds. The tink of glass from the kitchen where Nate poured himself another drink. Sophie's perfume as she sidled up in the seat next to him.

"We got surprised," the grifter said in a gently placating tone. "We got away. They didn't follow us. Right?"

Feeling Sophie's intent look on him, Hardison turned. "Right."

"There's been messier." Sophie leaned forward against the illuminated glass-topped bar and perused several documents spread about.

Hardison stopped and scratched his chin as he studied the screen and then turned to the small laptop resting on the corner of the detached bar next to a bottle of his customary orange soda. Fingers flew over the keyboard. A pause. His hand went back to his chin. After a long moment, he looked up with an uncertain look that faded into a smile. "No police contact. No unusual calls." Turning back to the screens, he clicked the remote and pages of phone dumps came up. "There's not a single abnormal—for these guys—call. Wife. Girlfriend. Mistress. The stripper bar three blocks east. A lot of calls to there. Credit card records show that it's a regular haunt." He brought up another screen of data. "I'm surprised they even see their wives or girlfriends or whatever."

"We don't know that they know what was taken." Nate took up his customary position at the end, next to Sophie. He saw that she had discarded the garish outfit of earlier and was dressed in something elegant yet simple. "Parker!" he called between sips of his drink.

"Here!" the younger woman called as she ran from the window to the desk and threw herself into the last empty chair. She bumped Eliot's shoulder eliciting a growl from him as she reached across the hitter and planted the ring in front of Sophie. "It's fake," she announced.

Sophie just looked at her. "No. It's not."

Parker nodded. A glowing smile lighted her up. "Yes."

"It isn't," Sophie said. It couldn't be. Allistair was . . . The thought drifted off as she picked up the ring and studied it. "It can't be." Her voice was softer. That was so long ago, but the memory of those fleeting days in Montreal was so fresh. She admired the sparkled of the diamond—or whatever it was. "I was young and foolish. I was after a Monet. Stole his heart by accident." She shook her head. "I never questioned its authenticity."

Nate quietly watched as Sophie slipped the ring onto her finger and held her hand out. He liked it when she smiled like that.

"Do you mind?" Eliot asked, looking at Parker who was still stretched awkwardly in front of him.

Parker drew back to her seat, but eyed the ice pack. A mischievous look—like a moth to a flame—she lightly jabbed a finger into his shoulder. "Does that hurt?"

Eliot closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. A low rumble. "Parker."

"Run it," Nate said before things escalated. "What about the rest of the jewelry?"

"Parker and I went over the contents," Sophie said as she picked up the lavender paper from the pile on the desk. She shook her head. "Only three pieces matched Rose's list. The cross. One of the rings belonged to a Mrs. Jefferson. Another to a Maude something, I can't read Rose's handwriting."

"None of it was worth much," Parker pointed out. "Not a very good take. Some of it was even fake." She lowered her voice. "Really fake."

"I think the pieces are worth more in sentimental value," Sophie explained while still admiring the ring she had almost sacrificed to the cause.

Parker gave her that curious look. The one she often had when she didn't understand.

"The rest of that list is long gone," Nate said. He set his glass down. "If there had been anything of worth, it would have already been moved."

Another gulp of orange soda and Hardison leaned against the bar at the end next to Parker. He reached back casually, the remote still in hand, and clicked. An image of the pawn shop came up. "This place," he began with a smile, "is like in the stone ages. Besides, their sad attempt at a security system—"

"Tapes!" Parker called out, but the grin faded, and she shrank back a little when everyone just stared at her.

Hardison shook his head and continued, "They have a computer but let's just say they aren't using it for inventory." Splash pages to half a dozen porn websites scrolled across the scene.

"Ew." Sophie grimaced and then looked a little more closely as the images quickly slid off the right side of the screen. "What were they doing to that teddy bear?"

"They'll never be able to get that out of fur." Parker shook her head.

Eliot just looked at the thief.

Leaning a little closer to Nate, Sophie asked, "Does that sort of thing interest you?"

Nate took a moment to process the question. "No." He shook his head as if to dismiss the thought. "Of course not. No."

Sophie had that look.

"What?"

Laughter from the end of the desk. "There are some freaky people out there," Hardison began. "If you think that's weird, one of these sites—"

"Can we just get on with it?" Nate demanded from behind his glass.

Everyone looked at Nate, but after a moment, Hardison shrugged and continued with the slide show. Layers of papers that Parker had quickly scanned flowed across the screen. "Our friends Alan and Felix do everything on paper. Felix bought out his brother's share of the business. Seems he's doing twenty-five to never seeing daylight again for the murder of his wife and her boyfriend."

"Do we know when the items were taken from Rose's friends?" Eliot asked.

"Nah, man," Hardison replied. "There's no way of knowing when the stuff was stolen or when—if—it passed through Lucky A's."

Sophie glanced up at the screen. She narrowed her gaze as she studied the documents. "That would explain the relative non-reaction to our visit." She sighed. "The items could have been gone from their owners for weeks, maybe months before they realized they were missing. We can't tie the current pawnshop owners to those victimizing Rose's friends."

Hardison loved it when the details came together. "Not exactly. Parker did find something interesting."

The thief grinned even if she didn't know what the interesting object she had found was.

Displayed large across the monitor bank was an image of the Home Keepers business card Parker had found in the safe. Hardison picked up the lavender paper from the lighted bar top. "Guess what all these people have in common?"

"I know! I know!" Parker said excitedly as she waved her hand about like an over eager student. "They all use the same service!"

"A caregiver would be the best way to get access to the victim's belongings," Sophie said.

"Marisa is a caregiver," Parker pointed out.

Hardison shook his head and spoke softly to the eager blond. "Marisa doesn't work for Home Keepers."

"She's an independent contractor," Nate explained. "Hired by Rose's grandchildren to help her with day-to-day needs," Nate said as he studied the screen.

"The people they are supposed to trust are the ones robbing them. Sweet." Eliot adjusted the ice pack. The crunch of the shifting ice drew Parker's attention again.

The picture of an uptight woman in her late thirties appeared across the screens. "Meet Lauren Brandt, sole proprietor of Home Keepers," Hardison said as he motioned toward the image. "No longer associated with The Brandt Group. She's separated from James Brandt." Images of a well-dressed man standing in front of a recently renovated old town building and of him in his office.

"A fan of Picasso," Sophie noted, spying several small framed works in the background.

Hardison clicked the remote and an exterior of the Home Keeper's storefront along with an old newspaper ad of Lauren dressed in the Home Keepers' uniforms. "Lauren began as an employee about fifteen years ago when it was owned by Sylvia Carter." He stopped and stared at Parker who was poking at Eliot's shoulder. "Seriously?"

Eliot growled and shifted away from the thief.

Parker turned and faced forward, her fingers intertwined on the desk in front of her and offered up her best, innocent grin.

"As I was saying," Hardison continued even as he gave Parker an admonishing shake of his head. "At that time, Home Keepers prided itself on having the best, most secure services for their elderly or handicapped clients. Lauren was looked into twice by an internal investigator for stealing from the clients. Second time got her fired, but there were no public accusations. Lauren tried to sue Home Keepers, but lost. So she married a rich guy who bought Sylvia Carter out when she ran into financial trouble about six years ago.

"Now here's where it turns all soap opera. Jimmy cheats on Lauren with his secretary, Lauren files for divorce, and moves into an apartment, and then hired a guy off Jimmy's renovation crew. Now Jimmy's pissed, he cuts off all financial backing to Home Keepers."

"Without Brandt's money, Home Keepers is going under," Sophie noted.

"And Paul?" Hardison shook his head. "He's not been a very good boy. He shouldn't be working for a business like that, let alone have a financial stake in it. He has a history of picking up things while working jobs." A mug shot of Paul Wallace popped up.

Nate listened as Hardison outlined Paul's criminal history, but his gaze never slipped from the screens. "Have there been any formal complaints lodged against Home Keepers?"

Hardison shook his head. "There were a few at the transition. I don't think some liked the early changes when Mrs. Brandt took over. If anything, the clients love their helpers. Wish there were more of them, but no one has said one bad thing about the company, at least, not formally. Well, everyone except Sylvia Carter and Community Hope. She can't say anything nice about them and refuses to invite them to support their annual benefit."

"Since Lauren took over," Nate observed, mostly to himself. His gaze returned to the image of Lauren. After a few moments of silence, a smile crept across his face. "Let's go steal us a granny." He slapped the glass top and walked off leaving the other four to exchange uncertain looks.

"He really has gotten creepier since prison," Parker noted.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks Parker4evah and astridv for your kind responses. Glad you are enjoying the story!

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><p><strong>Setting the Stage<strong>

"This is going to be so much fun!" Rose said as she leaned back and was nearly swallowed by her large maroon and gold flowered rocker. "I've never played a spy before." A worried look. "Too bad we have to pretend Marisa quit."

"She will be safer that way," Parker said, repeating what Sophie had told her. Shifting about awkwardly, the thief looked at Rose's simple little house, but the silence, and Rose made her feel fidgety. She smiled. Sophie said that sometimes a smile says more than any words could.

It was weird how the various muscles in her face tensed and tugged. She was probably doing it wrong.

Rose was looking at her again.

"Did you gather up all the stuff you didn't want stolen?" the thief blurted shattering the brief silence.

"Well, I don't want anything stolen," Rose replied matter-of-factly.

Parker bit her lip as she looked around the front room. There was too much to hide. The house was neatly kept, but full of strange little cat figurines and other knickknacks. She could understand it if the items were made of gold and encrusted with jewels, but she was certain none of the cats had diamond eyes and the ceramic didn't look all that special. Old maybe, but not the right kind of old.

Not like a Ming vase.

"It's taken care of. Marisa took my jewelry for safekeeping." Rose gave the younger woman a concerned look. She leaned against a large pillow in the chair. "I think you're more worried than I am."

Digging into the pack around her waist, Parker pulled out the last of the mini cameras and a small velvet bag. In a halting voice, "I need to plant these." She was out of her seat and halfway to the door leading to the bedroom.

"_You need to explain to her what you are doing,"_ Hardison said in her ear. He was parked a short distance away monitoring the situation.

While Parker was grateful for Hardison's presence, she really wished Sophie was there to talk her through this. She turned and threw Rose a suspicious look. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Rose looked around the room, even up at the ceiling, before settling her gaze back on Parker. "Are you talking to someone?"

"I'm talking on my phone," Parker quickly replied and then made a face when she realized she wasn't holding her phone.

* * *

><p>Hardison smashed his hand to his face. "Relax." He wished Sophie was there. "This is easy. Just tell her that we don't want to risk any of her precious belongings." He paused letting Parker repeat what he said. "So that we are using some of our stuff so if it is stolen, it's all right."<p>

He looked down at the table in front of him. With the tip of a long finger, he nudged a man's golden wedding band toward a 2-liter bottle of orange soda he had been nursing on for the better of the last hour.

_"Why couldn't you do this?"_ Parker hissed.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, Rose and I don't look related."

_"You could be adopted."_

"Or you could just pretend to be the granddaughter she already has." He shook his head before stealing a glance to one of the monitors. The white SUV he had tagged as Lauren Brandt's was entering the little subdivision Rose lived in. "You better hurry up. You are about to have company."

He could hear movement about the house. The acoustics changed.

_"I can't do this."_

"Why not?" he asked.

_"She's old. What if she suddenly drops dead?"_

* * *

><p><em>"That's not going to happen. Rose is in great health. She'll probably outlive all of us."<em>

Hardison was trying to help, but his words did little to comfort Parker's nerves. She paused just inside the room and stuck the tiny camera in a cone of fake flowers hanging on the wall.

_"There's a leaf in the way,"_ Hardison said.

Huffing, Parker paused and shifted the fake leaves to free the camera view. "How's that?"

_"Good."_

Over her shoulder, the thief noticed that Rose had followed her into the bedroom and was staring at her again.

Parker turned and stared back.

"They have medicine for people who talk to themselves," Rose announced. She studied the younger woman for a time. "Of course, there's not much you can do with senility, but you're not old enough to be senile."

"I could be," Parker blurted.

Hardison made a choking sound.

Rose laughed. "You're a strange one."

With a nod, Parker backed away from Rose and stole across the older woman's bedroom to the dresser. She planted the pieces in a dish that had previously held two rings, two bracelets, and a necklace of Rose's.

Hearing Rose follow her across room, Parker froze when she felt the other woman's eyes on her back. It was really creepy. "She's staring at me," she whispered.

_"Just talk to her, Parker,"_ Hardison said in a cool voice. _"She doesn't understand what you are doing."_

Quickly, pulling open a lower drawer; she stuffed a bill clip full of fifties under a sweater. A moment passed before she could let go and shut the drawer. Drawing in a deep breath, she then exhaled hard and turned to Rose. "I'm talking to Hardison with this." Reaching up to her ear, she pulled the small communication device out and held it out toward Rose.

Squinting, Rose leaned forward and examined the tiny object between Parker's fingers. "Hello?" She turned her head slightly and listened. "I don't hear anything."

"You need it in your ear to work."

"So many strange devices," Rose said with a shake of her head. "It's just amazing. I had to be about your age before I talked on my first telephone, and I thought that was magic."

Reflected lights sliced through the room as Lauren Brandt's white SUV pulled into the drive. Parker replaced the earbud. "She's here."

Parker startled when Rose patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, dear. I can handle this." At the sound of the doorbell, the elderly lady smiled and took her time straightening doilies and dusting off the corner of the couch before making her way to the front door. She brushed aside the lacy curtain in front of the window and looked out suspiciously before unlocking the front door. With it cracked a few inches, she looked out at the tall, dark blond-haired woman waiting on the porch. "Yes?" she asked in a feeble tone.

_"Oh, she's good,"_ Hardison said.

A little grin tugged at the corner of Parker's mouth.

"Hello, I'm Lauren Brandt," the woman said in a friendly tone. "I'm from Home Keepers. We have a one o'clock appointment."

Rose hesitated a moment, then, as if remembering, opened the door and unlocked the screen. "Of course. Come in. You can't trust anyone these days. All kinds of criminals are sneaking about."

Parker watched as Lauren stepped in and shook Rose's hand before looking about, taking the whole of the room in.

"I have heard about your troubles with your last home care person," Lauren began, "and I assure you; we check our people out thoroughly." Her gaze settled on Parker who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Don't worry about her," Rose said. "That's my granddaughter, Megan. She was worried about me and has come to visit. I keep telling her I'm all right, but she's just not comfortable leaving me all alone."

"Megan," Lauren said as she crossed the room and reached out to shake Parker's hand.

Parker hesitantly looked at the hand before taking it and giving it a good shake. "Yes," she said in a stiff fashion, "I am Megan."

Toddling between them, Rose leaned closer to Lauren and shielded her mouth slightly as she whispered, "She's an artist." A sweet smile. "You know how odd they can be. Nothing like her brothers."

"Of course," Lauren said with an awkward smile. "I have a listing of your various needs, and I would like to go over them with you."

"We should sit." Rose motioned Lauren to the couch before she took up her own spot in her flowery chair.

When Lauren sat down where Parker had previously perched, the thief looked about with an uncertain expression before positioning herself at the opposite end of the couch. She stared at Lauren.

"I am just so glad you could work me in for an appointment." Rose seemed happy to have the visitor as she reached to the side table and grabbed a wrapped candy. "Penny candy? Butterscotch."

"No thank you," Lauren said. She glanced about the room again, her gaze lingering on of photo of Parker that replaced an image of Rose's real grandchildren.

"I have just been so worried since Marisa quit. I didn't know what I would do. I can take care of myself mostly around the house, but I haven't driven in years." Rose unwrapped the cellophane wrapper. "Gerty used to drive for me until she had that accident," she leaned forward and spoke under her breath, "but they took her driver's license away. She put her car in reverse instead of drive. Smashed up a police car. She was so embarrassed. That officer wasn't too happy either. He spilled a thermos of hot coffee all over himself. And then, there was that time she nearly ran over a clown—"

* * *

><p><em>"How's it going?"<em> Nate asked.

"Man, that Rose could give Sophie a run for her money. She's quick." Hardison leaned back and watched as Rose carried on about clowns wandering loose on the streets. "I don't mind backing Parker up, but why am I always in the van? I could be doing the interview at Home Keepers."

_"They don't need their computers fixed,"_ Eliot cut in.

"I can do more than fix computers. I am perfectly capable of calling a plumber. I can also—"

_"Can you patch broken roof shingles?" _

"I can patch into a Tanuki 5000 system with no trace."

_"Guys,"_ Nate said.

"Whatever," Hardison said after a moment and turned his attention back to Rose and Parker. Rose was carrying on quite animatedly about polka dots.

And Parker was smiling.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry it took so long to get another post up.

* * *

><p><em>Polka dots?<em> Eliot wondered before shaking off the thought and focusing on the task at hand. "I'm in."

Hardison was still talking in the background. Something about short numbers. The hitter glanced out the large picture window as he listened, but whatever it was, Hardison wasn't going into any detail.

It was just as well, as he turned his attention to the other three seats that made up the waiting area left of the front door. Cheap and plastic. None any better than the one he was sitting in.

The front of the Home Keepers' offices was made up of two large front windows, one on each side of the front entrance, both hidden by white blinds. No barricades. To the right of the entrance was a large desk that was framed on one side with a tall grey file cabinet. Just enough room for the little brunette behind the desk to come and go. The rest of the storefront was truncated by a dark, blue-painted wall with a single, white door. An Employees Only sign was crookedly placed about eye level on the door. Metal with a solid core, Eliot suspected.

The desk was overloaded with paperwork and Anna, according to the wooden placard that sat precariously close to the edge, didn't seem all that interested. She twisted her dark ringlets with her finger as she stared down at the book tucked behind the desk.

Every now and then, she would glance up and smile.

He quietly returned the smile and leaned back in the chair, the plastic popping and groaning with his movement. An earlier walk around the exterior block of buildings showed Home Keepers held the entire length to the back of the building. A service door in the alley. The real offices, were hidden by the dark wall.

Muffled laughter. The sound of a door closing and a moment later, the white door opened and two women stepped out.

"I think it's more than senility. She's insane," one of the ladies said as they passed through, waving to the young woman behind the desk and leaving without giving Eliot a second look.

"It's Stephanie," the young woman at the desk said after the door had closed and the place had fallen silent again. She leaned forward and propped her elbow on the desk's edge. There was a smattering of freckles across her honey complexion. She glanced toward the name placard. "I don't know who Anna was. She wasn't here when I started. It just felt wrong to throw it out." She picked through some papers on her desk and then looked back at Eliot. "You interviewing for that maintenance opening? Mr. Lumis is really picky," she added with a roll of her eyes and a flick of a finger that sent a dark curl back from her face.

Eliot was about to respond, but paused when he caught the subtle shift of her gaze toward the door, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the back of the office. The metal door swung open, and Stephanie rolled her chair back a short distance from the desk even as she buried her book under a stack of papers in front of her.

"Where's Lauren?" the tall man asked.

Stephanie, softer in tone, said, "She's at a client meet and greet, Mr. Lumis." A beat. "Your one o'clock has been waiting." She grabbed a pen off the desk and focused on writing some note; she never raised her eyes to the man again.

Eliot stood, keeping his posture loose and unassuming when Paul approached and introduced himself. When they shook hands, the hitter noted the watch on Paul's wrist, but didn't linger on it as it wasn't the one that went missing from Bernard. "Noah Westerly," he said with a friendly grin.

"Let's head back to my office," Paul said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and headed to the open door.

As Eliot followed, he heard the desk chair shift and looked back at Stephanie. She mouthed, "Good luck."

A long, straight corridor that was well lit and ended at a heavy door that looked to open into the alley. The first room on the right had an open door to a break room with a small kitchenette. Smelled of old coffee. The next was a restroom. To his left, a closed wooden door with a fogged glass window and gold lettering that simply read: Administrator. The door across the hall was much like the first, except without the title.

Like most of the office, the door, and accompanying frame were old and wooden and buried under myriad layers of paint. Paul shoved it opened causing the hinges to squawk.

Closing the door behind them, Paul motioned to the chair in front of the desk. As he took his own seat behind the desk, he began, "You'll have to forgive the state of our offices. The need for our services and the clientele list is expanding, but it seems we have little time to worry about our own house."

Eliot got comfortable in the role offering small talk and easily answering questions about his qualifications in minor contract work.

"I was beginning to think no one qualified would answer our ads," Paul said as he flipped through Eliot's mostly fabricated resume.

_"And you can thank me for that,"_ Hardison chimed in. _"The ad was already in the paper. Had been for almost two months. Anyway, I had to redirect—"_

"Shut it," Eliot growled through clenched teeth.

_"I feel so under appreciated."_

Eliot shifted his attention back to Paul just as the man pushed the resume to the side. "You're not local."

"How'd you guess?" A little self mocking as Eliot made no effort to diminish his native drawl.

Paul laughed and leaned back in his chair. The move wasn't casual. "So what brings you to our fine community?"

"It started with a girl."

Paul gave a sympathy wince. "That's pretty dangerous."

Eliot nodded. "I'm not arguing there." When the other man looked back at the resume and between questions of his competence in repair work, Eliot gave the room a look over. There wasn't much to it save for the safe in the corner, masked by a leafy plant that looked starved for real sunlight.

Leaning forward in his chair, Eliot pressed his elbows to his knees and entwined his fingers. After a long moment, he looked up at the man across the desk. Desperation. "This is the first interview I've had in weeks. I need this job."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Thanks, KittensofLove for the kind review! Reviews are greatly appreciated.

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><p>Nathan Ford had been here before.<p>

Not here in this city, but here, standing at the door of a support group. He stared at the sign taped to the glass. Community Hope. We help those who help.

This was different this time around, he thought, as he pulled the door open and entered the converted storefront. The shabby, but neat room served as an office and meeting area. The ring of chairs sat off to the left.

The room was well worn, but neat. The paint, hiding the shabbiness, was bright—too bright. Like clown in a terminal care ward.

The place reminded him of despair.

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he focused on the desk to the right and studied the figure slumped behind it. The woman's face was buried against her arms and her hair spilling forward like a veil.

"Perhaps I'm early."

Jerking back into her seat, the woman was quick to wipe her eyes even as she turned away from Nate. "I'm sorry. I was just catching a nap and lost track of time." Not a very good lie. She turned and looked at the old analog clock hanging from the wall by a poster of a family with an elderly; wheelchair bound woman. "It's two o'clock." She looked back at Nate. "You're my two o'clock. I'm so sorry. How unprofessional of me."

"No, it's fine."

On her feet, the short, plump woman rounded the desk and met Nate with a warm handshake. "I'm Sylvia Carter, and you are?"

"Nathan Ford."

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Ford." Sylvia motioned to the chair in front of her desk as she returned to her side and tried to straightened the scattering of paperwork.

Nate noted a sheet with a listing of supporters, several scratched through in red and the marker lying close by.

"Are you looking to join one of our support groups?" Sylvia asked as she grabbed a folder from a file and sifted through the colorful contents that matched the bulletin board behind her. She spoke in a soft, almost distracted tone. "You'll have to forgive me, things are really busy right now." A note pad covered in scribbles caught her attention and she dragged it close. "You talked to Julia on the phone." A shake of her head. "She didn't put down what services you were looking into."

Nate leaned back in his seat and took in the whole of the room. There were only the two of them. He was well briefed on the Community Hope caregiver network, and the problems with Home Keepers. Hardison had been quite thorough with the finances and other intel, but it did not require a gifted hacker to tell Nate the troubles the organization had suffered of late.

"You have a benefit coming up," he said.

"You mean an open house." Sylvia laid the folder down in front of her. "Benefit is such a big word."

Nate gave a slight laugh and smiled as he studied the stacks of papers and brochures scattered about the desk. "It's an enormous task to keep afloat in the current financial climate. The fact that you've lasted this long and are still providing comfort is a testament to your determination, but let's face it, the only reason your doors are currently open is that the church is allowing you to work out of this under used annex. You're trying to raise funds to sustain your network and get the word out to help those who feel as though they are in this alone, struggling to take care of a loved one."

Sylvia retreated in her seat. Her gaze kept Nate's as she twisted and motioned to the various meeting sheets pinned behind her. "Community Hope is here to help any caregivers," she said. Motioning toward a bright pink page, she continued, "If you are caring for a family member with Alzheimer's, we have a group. They meet every Wednesday at seven." A golden sheet. "We have support for families dealing with children who need long term care."

A smile that never reached his eyes. "I never found group therapy helpful. Their problems were not like mine."

"That may be so, Mr. Ford. And there are many who can and prefer to go it alone, but sometimes, even the loners can find a new strength as part of a group."

Nate tried and failed to suppress a genuine grin.

Suspicion lingered in her brown eyes. A steely determination. "Mr. Ford, if you are not here looking to find help—encouragement—from our services and the many who come here to share, then I have to question why you are here. I have neither the time nor much in the way of finances for you to trick me out of. So please, be on your way."

For a while, Nate was quiet, he didn't shy away from her intense look, nor did he invite her ire. He waited.

When the silence had drawn on long enough, he slowly shifted in his seat and rested an elbow on one of the padded arms. "At first you don't notice it. A sniffle. Tiredness. You treat it like every other cold that comes along. You take him to the doctor. Make sure all the medicines are taken. Plenty of water. After a few days, it passes and life goes back to normal. Just a kid, happy and playful.

"The fever returns and the process starts again. Doctors. Medicine. He gets well, but then it becomes a cycle, and the good days grow shorter and shorter.

"Vacations become trips to the specialist. You tighten your belt as you lose more paid days to be with him. Even when you are at work, you're not really there. He's always on your mind. How do you fix him? Looking for that cure that thing that will bring back the bright days when he can be a child again. In the back of your mind you know how tired you are, how frayed your nerves are, how worried you are, but there's nothing to ease any of that.

"And then, although part of you expects it, the end still comes suddenly and without warning. You're not consoled by the end of their suffering. There's this big hole left in you."

Sylvia's gaze slowly crept from Nate, across her desk, and settled on an old photograph of a sickly little boy.

* * *

><p>Sophie hadn't realized Parker and Hardison had gone silent, nor did she know she was holding her breath, waiting for what Nate would say next. The silence grew heavy in the openness of the apartment.<p>

Over her shoulder, she caught Parker's uncertain look. The young woman was perched on a chair at the table in the kitchen.

Hardison looked up over his laptop screen. His lips moved as if he were about to say something, but silently returned his gaze back to the screen.

The three of them had exchanged brief glances when Nate began speaking, but his words had drawn Sophie into her own world. She felt her hand pressed over her warm cheek, her fingers cupping her ear where the earbud was nestled as if to hear his words more clearly.

She hadn't known how Nate would play the charity, and in fact, she had offered to be the one, as a certain degree of subtly was needed. But, Nate had been insistent that Home Keepers be her target.

Before she even realized it, Sophie found herself gripping the edge of the detached bar. Her breath pensively held as she waited.

* * *

><p>After a time, Nate looked up to find Sylvia still staring at the photo on her desk. His tone was soft. Gentle. "Right now, you have devoted yourself to this organization, the same way you devoted years to caring for your family. There's a lot of love in this effort. You want to help everyone who comes through that door in need of support, or just knowing they need something but not what exactly. You're struggling right now. You don't know what you need and don't have a place to turn to for help."<p>

He reached into his coat pocket and produced a business card. "I can be that help." Standing, he pressed the card to the center of the desk. "Feel free to investigate. You would be foolish just to take my word for it. And if you feel that I may be of service to you, just call."

Politely excusing himself, he left.


	10. Chapter 10

**In Motion**

"You haven't answered my question," Lauren said as she pushed open the door to the Home Keepers front office.

Paul was a step behind. "What?" He shot Stephanie a sharp look causing the young woman to shrink back behind the shelter of her desk.

"Noah. Is he any good at the job?"

A shrug. "What does it matter. You said I had to hire him no matter what."

Lauren turned to face the man and stood her ground. "I had seen far too many good applicants being passed by. What am I supposed to think?"

"You're quick to be on a first name basis." Paul glowered.

Anger flushed the woman's pale features. "I'm the owner of this company. It's important to get to know my employees. Know that they are capable of."

"You think he can do my job? You looking to replace me?" He scoffed and picked up a stack of mail from the in box and started flipping through envelopes.

Snatching the mail from his grip, she said, "I hadn't considered it. Yet." Her shoulders slumped as she retreated a step toward the white door. "I have worked tirelessly to convince Mrs. Greenblatt that nothing is amiss. We cannot afford upset clients." Turning her back on him, she pulled the door open and headed to the back of the shop. Paul right behind her, slamming the door shut.

The fear having bled away, Stephanie strained to hear as the voices beyond the door seemed to rise. Creeping from behind her desk, she carefully cracked the door and listened.

"You can't fire me," Paul said from within Lauren's office. "You try to oust me and I'll ruin you."

"Let me go." More muffled words.

Stephanie had never heard Lauren's voice so tense. She opened the door a little wider and tried to look down the corridor, but saw no one except that Lauren's office door was open.

Paul stepped into the corridor. Stephanie was quick to push the door closed and darted back behind her desk. She shook when the door to the back banged loudly.

After a time, Lauren appeared in the doorway. She was holding her wrist, but Stephanie could clearly see the dark blush on her arm. There was a slight tremble in her voice. "Have we gotten the ad pricing?"

"Not yet," Stephanie replied. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course." She paused. "Call Mrs. Brewer and schedule an estimate. She has some damaged windows that are leaking. Make sure that new hire accompanies Paul."

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><p>Rose cut a perfect wedge into the still warm golden crust and then lifted out a rich pink, fruit filled slice of strawberry rhubarb.<p>

Parker brightened as the piece was placed on the dish in front of her. She grabbed a fork, but waited until Rose had her own piece of pie and was ready to dig in.

Cutting into the dessert, Parker took the bite and savored the fruity sweetness. "Good," she slurred as she went for another piece. She couldn't remember the last time she had a piece of pie, at least not good piece of pie. Eliot could cook. Could he make pies like this?

Rose smiled between bites as she studied Parker. "You know, I'm a thief too—not jewelry mind you—and I certainly didn't keep what I took."

Parker looked at her.

Rose thought about it for several moments. "It was a hat."

"A hat?" Parker never thought of a hat worth stealing except when she was using it as a quick disguise. She leaned forward and looked conspiratorially at the older woman. "Were you hiding from the police?"

"Oh no! That would be like wearing a pink elephant on your head."

Parker nodded even though she had no idea what that meant.

Tapping the flowery vinyl table cloth, Rose explained, "It was a horrible hat. Priscilla would wear it every Sunday to church. Woe to whomever got caught behind her. You couldn't see the preacher, the choir, or the organ player. Nothing. She refused to remove that thing with its yellow flowers. And if the petals fell off, she would buy more fake flowers and stuff in it. Well, one day, she took it off to fix her hair, so I grabbed it and ran!"

The thief beamed, though she would have just disappeared into the nearest vent shaft.

"It was such a windy day that when I got out in front of the church, the wind stole it from me and that horrible hat just flew away!" Rose laughed at her tale and then reached out and took Parker by the hand, causing the younger woman to freeze. Rose was always touching her. Putting a hand on her shoulder and taking her hand.

It was strange, but kind of nice too.

The older woman stared at Parker for a long time. "I have complete confidence in you and your friends. I'm not worried or afraid. So far, the Home Keepers have been good to me. Veronica, my helper has done my grocery shopping, Cora has helped me with cleaning around the house. Someone is coming to fix those broken windows in the bedroom. Maybe I was wrong and there isn't a conspiracy." Her shoulders slumped. "Bernard's health had really failed toward the end. I know that."

Parker thought of her attempt at blending into a jury trial and how that was supposed to be normal. That's what Hardison called it anyway, but it wasn't. "There's always a conspiracy," she said. Glancing about the kitchen, Parker scanned for some hidden device that she had not planted.

"You're too young to be that cynical." Rose patted Parker's hand. "I told them you were just visiting from school. They might get suspicious if you keep hanging around."

Rose was right and Parker knew that Nate would say the same thing if she had her earbud in. She liked being around Rose, but nodded in understanding.

Tightening her grip on Parker's hand, Rose spoke in a reassuring voice. "I've been on my own for nearly thirty years since my husband died. I've done pretty good taking care of myself even if they don't let me drive anymore."

"Do you really have a granddaughter named Megan?"

"Yes, she's about your age. I also have two grandsons, Bobby and Aaron. Bobby's in the Army and Aaron is a Marine. Bobby even has twin daughters. I'm a great grandma!" Rose got up and went to the table that had the picture of Parker posing as her granddaughter. She slid open the drawer and pulled out a real framed picture.

Parker peeked around Rose's shoulder and saw the image of the two men in uniform and a young woman. There was also a picture of one of the men with a woman and two identical babies dressed in frilly pink dresses. "Do you miss them?"

Rose smiled, but it wasn't the friendly one she was always giving Parker. There was something very sad about it. "Very much." She glanced away and then looked back with that happy smile again. "Your pie is getting cold, dear. You need to eat up. You need a little meat on those bones."

Parker frowned and looked back at the pie. She hadn't tasted any meat.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks you,** saides** for you kind review. I appreciated it very much. Glad you are enjoying the story.

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><p>Unscrewing the cap on the mini bottle, Nate poured the amber liquid into a glass. Casually, he dropped the empty bottle into the trash under the mini bar where the distinctive clink of glass on glass echoed throughout the hotel suite.<p>

Leaning against the bar, Nate stared at the sliding glass doors that lead to the small box that passed for a balcony. From his vantage point, he could survey most of the small city. A few multi-storied buildings clustered near downtown, the rest residential sprawl.

The chirp of his phone drew his attention from the skyline and to the well-worn coffee table. Crossing the room, he scooped the phone up. "This is Ford." He listened, occasionally nodding. "That's plenty of time. Not a problem. My team has worked with less and on tighter schedules."

Hardison glanced up from the laptop he had been studying. He looked around the empty room and then turned a sharp look to Nate. "Team? I'm a team? There may be no 'I' in team but there is an 'M-E' and that spells _me_." An image on the screen drew the hacker's attention and he quickly scanned the information. He stroked his chin and shifted so his elbow rested on the rounded edge of the table.

Well, he's had less to work from, but not by much.

While Nate continued to visit with the woman from Community Hope, Hardison reached over and dug into a brightly colored cellophane package and pulled out three green and white gummy frogs. Biting down on the first, he tugged at it until the frog was bisected between his teeth as he scanned through documents splayed across the small screen.

"Tomorrow then," Nate said and then he disconnected the call. "Sylvia is in." He turned and glanced about the room. "Where's everyone?"

"Rose is making Parker dinner." Hardison bit into another gummy frog. "No one asked if I wanted homemade strawberry rhubarb pie," he grumbled. "And Eliot's cleaning up after working all day. And may I say, thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to hang a forest of those little pine tree air fresheners to air the place out."

Nate shook his head before focusing on the young hacker. "How bad is it?"

"Not that bad. Community Hope has supporters, but well, they're pretty small. They need more. Something significant."

"Working on that."

Hardison eyed Nate. "That's all well and good but they are having this benefit out of their offices." He waved his hand as if offering the reveal of a magic trick. "Already taken care of. There's a little art museum—and I use that term lightly—that I have booked."

"Good. Good." Nate heard the clop of high heels beyond the entrance of the suite and waited until the door opened with Sophie shifting a bag full of sandwiches from one arm to the other.

Dumping the bag on the counter of the mini bar, she then glanced around. "Where's Parker?"

"Probably enjoying strawberry rhubarb pie," Hardison muttered and turned back to his work.

Sophie looked at the hacker and then to Nate who just shook his head. She held up a paper coffee cup. "Here," she said handing it to the mastermind.

Nate took the drink and sniffed at the hot steam that poured out of the half empty cup. "Hazelnut? Seriously?"

"I had to try to make it palatable," Sophie said as she dug into the bag and pulled out a paper wrapped sandwich and carried it over to Hardison. "With extra pickles, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hardison said with a smile as he took the offering. "Thank you."

There were three distinct raps on the door and Nate recognized it immediately. "It's open," he said lest the door might be knocked off its hinges.

The door opened and a scent of soap breezed in with Eliot. He made it halfway across the room to the couch and collapsed into the corner. He raked his fingers through his still wet hair and then stretched his arm across the back of the couch. An ice pack for his shoulder and hand would feel good, but he really didn't want to get up again.

"What happened?" Sophie asked as her gaze fell to Eliot's bruised and cut knuckles and then traced along his outstretched arm, bare up to the rolled sleeves at his elbow. Three deep scratches ran from his wrist and curled around his forearm before fading.

"Cats. Lot's of them," he answered shortly. "The woman must have had fifty crammed in that little house."

Between bites of sandwich, Hardison shook his head. "Crazy cat ladies can be," a beat, "crazy. There used to be this one who lived down the street from Nana. She was always snatching up local strays—"

"What did you find out?" Nate interrupted, as he took up position in a nearby chair. His gaze lingered on the hitter's smashed hand.

Eliot sighed. "While I was rebuilding the back steps of the cat lady's house, Paul did some . . . investigating. I don't know what he walked out with; he kept a tight watch on his tool box. A spare key on a nail by the backdoor also went missing briefly." There were three similar stories after that. Eliot doing the work and distracting the ladies while Paul copied keys, and moved unnoticed through the house. "I don't know if anything was taken." He hesitated a moment. "He changed the price of a pipe repair. Nearly doubling it at the last minute. She wasn't hurting for money, but she could have hired a regular plumber and had the job done a lot cheaper."

"Was she resistant?"

"He sent me out to the truck before she started to protest."

"And?"

Eliot smiled. He had stood outside the door, half ready to bust in and take Paul down if need be, con or no con. Luckily, it had not come to that. He stretched his fingers and then drew them into a fist. His hand hurt like hell, but the damage was comparatively mild. Could have been worse had he not been prepared to take the injury. "He told her if she didn't pay the price, she'd lose the rest of her Home Keepers services."

Shock. Sophie shook her head and retreated to the mini bar. "That's blackmail."

"They have to go down," Hardison added.

Nate nodded toward Eliot's hand.

Shifting his gaze toward Sophie in the periphery, Eliot's tone was slow and even. "A workplace accident. I'll be more careful."

The moment dragged out before Nate shook his head. If Eliot was confident he could handle the situation, then Nate would defer to him. "Other issues?" he asked as he reached for a stack of papers on the coffee table and flipped through them.

"No," Eliot replied as he looked to the bag of sandwiches and then to the pail of ice. "How much longer do I have to keep this up?"

"A few more days," Nate said. "Rose is on schedule tomorrow for an estimate."

"Parker's taken care of everything," Hardison said. "The place is wired up and she's hogging all the strawberry rhubarb." The words drifted off.

Eliot noted Sophie's sharp attention. He knew he wasn't getting anything past her. Still, couldn't blame a guy for trying. "Some of those sweet little old ladies are a little too free with their hands."

Sophie smiled as she sat on the arm of the couch. "If only I could be so spry when I'm at that age." A wicked grin as she handed the hitter an ice pack. "They're old, Eliot, not dead."

The comment earned her a scowl.


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry about the wait. Hopefully the next post will be up in a week or so.

Thanks **Dandalf**, **Mercedes**, **wolfofsheep**, and **Tez**. I greatly appreciate your replies and am very happy that you are enjoying the story as much as I am writing it.

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><p>When Eliot arrived at the Home Keeper's offices, Paul was nowhere to be seen. Stephanie had informed Eliot that Paul was running late and would be there shortly. So he idled his time in the break room nursing a cup of bitter convenience store coffee and reading the daily paper.<p>

Absently, he listened to the team preparing and going over details of their upcoming parts of the job. Nate had given him the pep talk before he left the hotel that morning. Not that he needed it. Grudging or not, he would do his job. Even if that meant fixing broken porch steps.

Still, there had been that hesitance in Nate's voice.

Somewhere down the corridor, he heard the staccato of high heeled shoes against the tiled floor. The sound reminded him of Sophie's walk, there was a certain amount of determination in the sharp cadence.

"Good morning, Noah."

He looked up to find Lauren standing in the doorway—the only way in or out of the break room.

He closed the paper and laid it on the table before him. Relaxing his posture, he met the waiting woman's gaze, which unfortunately was fixated on his battered hand. "Morning, ma'am."

She leaned back and glanced down the corridor before turning her attention back to the hitter. "What happened to your hand?"

"Shut my hand in a car door," he said between sips of his coffee.

"You should be more careful." She folded her arms across her chest.

Eliot noted the bruising on her wrist.

Aware of his attention, she crossed her arms the other way to hide the discoloration. Her tone was even and all business. "Before you leave this afternoon I have some more paperwork to go over. Just to make sure all the i's are dotted and t's are crossed before I let you loose to work independently. We have a number of jobs that need taken care of this week and Paul can't do them all himself."

"I have time now."

"No," Lauren said. Her form was rigid. The tenseness bleeding into her words. "This afternoon will be fine."

"What will be fine?" Paul's deep voice was heard somewhere from the corridor.

Lauren turned sharply and even Eliot felt the bite of surprise. He hadn't heard the man's approach.

"There's an issue with some of Noah's paperwork. Not really your concern." Her words were harsh, even as she retreated. She backed against the door frame as Paul forced his way into view.

Paul shot Eliot a sharp look. "We've got several jobs ahead of us. Let's get going."

Eliot nodded and got to his feet. He tossed the empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can and left the paper on the table in case anyone else was interested. A polite tip of his head. "Mrs. Brandt."

Curious, he thought as he caught Paul's lingering glare.

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><p>Sophie Devereaux strode across the wide sidewalk to the little brick storefront at the end of the block. She stole a glance down the way and noted that this street was a little off from the recent renovations to the community's old business district.<p>

At the door, she paused and looked into the reflection of the window. She drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. She needed to push back the thoughts that had occupied most of her drive.

Still, she found herself thinking of a sabbatical...to Paris. The others would follow suit, if it was just for a week or two.

She wasn't the only one who needed a break. Right?

Right?

Nate would just have to deal with it if they all took a break. Her thoughts flitted back to the suite where Nate had been going through a folder of potential clients when she left.

Pushing the aggravation out of her thoughts, Sophie pulled the door open. A bell chimed as she stepped in and found the dark haired receptionist, Stephanie, sitting behind her desk.

The woman perked up at the sight of a visitor. She quickly pushed her magazine to the side and flipped through the appointment book. "Can I help you?"

Approaching the desk with a smile, Sophie boldly held her hand out to the woman. "Grace Holloway. I'm here to see Lauren Brandt."

Stephanie shook her hand, but a look of confusion slid over her features as she withdrew to study the appointment book again.

Sophie took the moment to look over the office and was comforted with the extent of her knowledge of her new surroundings. Eliot's intel had been as sharp, if not more detailed than any camera view. She didn't have to guess where doors led or what was behind walls, she already knew.

"Miss—Mrs," Stephanie began tentatively.

"Ms."

"Ms. Holloway," Stephanie repeated. "You're from Community Hope?" There was a suspicious lilt to her question. Sophie did not indulge the woman and waited while Stephanie made a call. "I told them no when they called," she whispered into the handset. "I was firm about it." Frowning and with a nod, she hung up. "It will just be a moment," Stephanie said giving Sophie another uncertain look. She then motioned to the waiting area. "You can wait over there."

Sophie nodded and walked a few steps, but did not sit down. She looked through the slanted blinds at the street and waited.

As expected, the wait wasn't long. The white door opened and there were hushed voices at the desk and then Lauren Brandt turned and looked at Sophie. "Ms. Holloway?"

"Yes, and you are Mrs. Brandt, I presume?" the grifter asked as she swept forward and shook the other woman's hand. "You can call me Grace. I am here representing the upcoming benefit being held by the Community Hope organization."

Lauren looked her over. "I'm aware of it, but we are not involved."

Sophie smiled. "That's why I am here."


	13. Chapter 13

Hardison couldn't help but pause as Parker shifted from the couch to the seat to leaning against the kitchen bar. A nervous energy kept her from settling as she perched on one of the stools of the hotel suite the team was using as their temporary command center.

An inarticulate sound escaped the thief as she slid off the stool and wandered about the room. She was distracting and Hardison caught himself repeatedly glancing up from his work to follow her.

Parker's pacing brought her to the table where he was working. She climbed into one of the black metal chairs. Her form cast a long shadow across his workspace.

"What's up, Mama?"

A frown as Parker glanced about the room. She whispered, "I feel like I should be doing something." Sliding slowly across the table, she studied the small screen.

Leaning back, Hardison stared at the blond head that had completely overtaken his workspace. "You are doing something," he began as he reached out and gently pushed Parker out of the way. "You are waiting patiently while Sophie gets the mark on the hook."

"Right," Parker said with a nod. "I'm waiting. Patiently." A beat. "Waiting." She pulled away from the table and walked to the sliding glass door and stared out onto the balcony.

Nate sloshed his drink about the glass between draughts before going back to the paperwork he had been studying. Through the earbud, he could hear Sophie making small talk with Lauren.

"What? What?" Hardison was agitated.

Sighing, Nate tossed the paperwork onto the coffee table and looked over at Hardison and a fidgety Parker. He felt a headache coming on. "What's going on?"

"Are you sure Rose is going to be okay?" the thief asked.

"She'll be fine," Nate said in a placating tone. "Eliot is there."

"Right," Parker repeated. "She'll be fine." She stood there and looked about the suite. "I'm going for a walk," she announced. Turning sharply, she approached the sliding glass door and pulled it open.

A cool breeze sent Nate's paperwork flying across the room. He made a futile grab at the pages catching only a few as the rest scattered across the stained carpet. When he looked back up, Parker was gone. "Are you tracking her?"

"You mean in her shoe? Um, yeah, we still doing that?"

Nate sighed.

"Noted for future jobs." Hardison didn't stop his work though and went back to typing, only occasionally pausing the glance at a small video window in the corner of the screen showing various interiors of Rose's house. The old woman was in her tall backed chair reading.

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><p>Inside Lauren's large office that served as both her work area and a makeshift storage area, Sophie made herself comfortable in the seat opposite Lauren's desk.<p>

A predatory look lighted Lauren's face. Pride rich in her voice. "That Sylvia must be desperate to send you calling on me."

Sophie shifted and returned a warm smile. "As you know, times are difficult and for the sake of the greater good, one must expand their network." Leaning forward every so slightly, she began, "Community Hope—"

"You know," Lauren said abruptly. "I'm not really interested." She stared at Sophie. "Did you know that Sylvia used to own Home Keepers? I used to work for her. She did not make it easy." Lauren rocked back in her chair, but didn't meet Sophie's look. "When a client accused me of stealing, Sylvia fired me with no investigation, no question. She never listened to my side and she refused to hire me back when it turned out the client had forgotten she had given the piece in question to her daughter to have a broken clasp repaired. I wanted my job back, but it wouldn't have made for a comfortable working environment."

Sophie let her surprise show through.

_"If it isn't digitally filed somewhere, I can't access that information,"_ Hardison said in her ear. _"I mean, I'm good, but I'm not _that_ good."_

Lauren rubbed her arm through the sleeve of her grey suit. "When Sylvia ran this place into the ground my husband—my ex—bought it for me. Because I enjoyed this place and I enjoy helping people. It wouldn't have made for a good environment to keep her on." She paused. "She went off and started that non-profit and encourage people to use any other support avenue except Home Keepers."

"I was unaware of the depth of ill will between your organizations," Sophie said smoothly while Hardison continued to ramble about not having the facility to find information like that out. She glanced to the shelves and scanned the organized items the caretakers used in their daily visits to clients.

Rising from her chair, Lauren said, "I don't see myself doing anything to help them. I'm sorry you have wasted your time."

Sophie rose and extended her hand to the other woman. "I'm sorry you are not interested in participating in the upcoming benefit. Perhaps in the future there will be a means to help both of your organizations." She paused as if to say more and pulled out her phone. Casually, she checked it, though it was only an act. "You'll have to excuse me. Thank you for your time," she said and excused herself.

Out in the main area of the office, Sophie paused near Stephanie's desk. She pressed the phone to her ear even as she stepped toward the front door. "Laundry King? I can meet with them shortly.". Behind her, beyond the other door she caught the sound of approaching footsteps and slid her phone back into her purse.

Sophie was out on the sidewalk before the glass door opened and Lauren stepped out. "Ms. Holloway?"

The grifter paused before turning. She gave the woman in the doorway a questioning look. "Yes?"


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry that it has been so long since I updated. I'll try to finish this story off in the next few weeks. Just a few more chapters left. They are already written, just need edited. Thank you **saides**, **Harm Marie**, **hoellenwauwau** for kindly replying. I truly enjoy replies from readers. Let's me know if the story is any good. :)

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><p>Hardison was certain he could feel each individual brain cell dying from complete boredom, which was sad as the morning had started out with so much promise.<p>

For the last two days, every time Eliot was at the Home Keepers office, the place threatened to break out into a telenovela as Lauren cornered—Eliot's words—him repeatedly. Although Hardison had trouble imagining Eliot Spencer unintentionally cornered by any woman. Then Paul would show up and things would get tense fast.

Glancing around the suite, the hacker wished that Parker had stuck around. More importantly, he wished he knew where she was and what she was up too. Visions of Serbian orphanages and gun runners danced in his head.

Even Nate had abandoned him to go to the Community Hope and work with the director, Sylvia.

Digging into the cellophane bag, Hardison's fingers searched about. "What?" He pulled his attention from the screen and looked at the bag. "Damn," he complained upon realizing he was out of gummy frogs.

Sinking his chin into his palm, he turned his attention back to the screen. Watching Eliot replace rotted wood and spackle holes in walls was about as interesting as watching paint dry.

Paul hadn't done much of anything of interest and Hardison thought he would fall asleep watching the man wander about the house. Paul was clearly checking the place out, but had yet to make a move. Of course, there was more than one way to steal from a little old lady, the mark's habit of upping the price at the end of the job was a prime example.

Still, if that had been his Nana taken for a ride, he didn't think he could be so calm. Sure, they were going to destroy this guy and the company that allowed him to get away with it, but damn, he was a professional criminal and would never stoop so low.

If that was his Nana, she'd probably have taken a rolling pin to a guy like that. He smiled, remembering a time someone had tried to start trouble with one of his foster siblings. You wouldn't think a woman that big could run that fast.

Hardison suddenly became alert. "Hey, hey man! Eliot!"

He could see Eliot at the edge of one of the views from the bedroom camera that Parker had planted. The man was completely fixated on leveling a window pane.

"Are you just ignoring me or did take out the earbud? Eliot!" He sank back in the chair. Shaking his head. "Oh, that's not good."

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><p>Eliot listened to Paul's retreating footsteps and shifted to reach for a pencil in the toolbox. Using the casual motion, he glanced toward the doorway Paul had disappeared through on his fourth break, not including a long lunch, since starting the job that morning. In fact, Eliot had done much of the work, save fielding Rose's often questions early on, but the woman had grown weary or satisfied and returned to her chair where she spent most of her time reading. The job had been easy and thankfully there were no cats involved and Rose kept her hands to herself.<p>

Other than Paul trying to drop some piping on his head first thing this morning, the day had been almost relaxing. Well, it had been once he had pocketed his earbud as Hardison just would not stop talking.

Paul appeared in the room and nodded out the window. "Isn't that your truck?"

"What?" He leaned back and looked.

Eliot followed Paul's line of sight. Sure enough, his truck and Parker were sitting at the curb in front of the house. "Dammit," he growled and took off to investigate.

Parker was half leaning out the driver's side window. An unreadable expression painted her features.

"If you screwed the starter up—"

"Is Rose okay?" she asked just as Eliot reached the truck.

"She's fine, Parker." Eliot stole a glance over his shoulder and spied Paul watching from the bedroom window. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried." She slipped back into the cab, pulled the key out of the ignition and held it up. "I used your spare."

"How did you—I never told you—"

"I've known for a while," she answered with a shrug.

Eliot just closed his eyes and tried to let the frustration slide away. Yet there was that nagging little thought in the back of his mind where he wondered just how much else she knew. "Parker." It was almost a whisper. "You shouldn't be here."

"But Rose."

Shifting a step, Eliot used the truck bed's reflection to see if Paul was still watching, but the window looked empty. "You're not helping her by being here. Take my truck back to where you found it and go back to the hotel." After a beat. "She's fine," he added.

Parker looked at Eliot. He was upset with her. She knew that Nate would admonish her too when he found out, but she just could not help herself. She was worried. Being with Rose gave her that warm feeling like when she was with the team and she didn't like the thought of something happening to Rose.

Exhaling deeply through her nose, she stared at Rose's house for a while and then nodded. Pointing a finger in Eliot's face, she said, "Don't let anything happen to her."

"I won't," Eliot replied. The fire having dissipated. He stepped back and watched as Parker reluctantly shifted the truck into gear and drove off.

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><p>"Man!" Hardison gave up yelling at Eliot—whom he was going to have a long talk with about taking his earbud out on a job—and watched as Paul made the most of Eliot's sudden absence and circled back to Rose's bedroom. "Come on, big guy. I know you're hot for that ring." The hacker leaned forward, watching the screen.<p>

Paul glanced at a photo on the wall and then looked back toward the living room where Rose sat. Slowly, he approached the dresser and reached into a dish full of coins and clearly pieces of costume jewelry. All except for one piece of course.

"Touchdown!" Hardison roared and punched the air the moment Paul secured a man's wedding band.

Paul didn't stop there and pulled open each of the top dresser drawers.

"Oh, now that's just nasty snooping through granny's panties." But, as Nate had seemingly known and instructed Parker to hide something in the drawer, Paul found the wad of cash and pausing, he glanced about before stripping off half the bills.

"Like she's not going to notice that's missing?" Hardison asked.

"That's the thing, isn't it?"

Hardison turned with a start and stared at Sophie standing in the open doorway of the suite. "She'll likely think she misplaced it or gave it away. She might not even notice it is missing for days, weeks or longer. And if she does find it missing, she might be too embarrassed or ashamed to think she was taken by someone." She walked in and tossed her jacket on the couch.

"Nah, Rose would make some noise."

"Until they silenced her like they did Bernard." She looked around the room. "Where's Parker?"

"Yeah, about that . . . ."

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><p>"There was some extra work involved, being a two man crew and all, you'll have to understand the difference in price." Paul's voice was friendly and easy going.<p>

Rose fretted and wrung her hands as she leaned closer to the clip board that Paul held. "That's much more than you quoted me. Are you sure there isn't a mistake?"

"The house is old, ma'am," Paul said. He shrugged and took a step back. "There was a lot of wear around the windows. The damaged to the walls was significant." A shake of his head. "These days, supplies just aren't cheap." A light touch to Rose's shoulder. "If it would be easier, I could call in and see if Mrs. Brandt would let me break the bill up into two or three payments."

Rose looked at the bill for a long time and finally shook her head. "No. I'll pay it all now."

Eliot listened as he finished packing up the tools. Remembering the earbud in his pocket, he retrieved it, but still hesitated long enough to brace himself for the awaiting onslaught.

_"And did you know—"_

"Have you been talking this whole time?"

_"It's about time."_ Hardison sounded indignant. _"He could have been sneaking up behind you with a gun and you would have never known."_

"Unlikely."

_"Lucky for you. He cleaned granny out while you were out talking to Parker."_

"About that—"

_"Nuh uh,"_ Hardison protested. _"I had nothing to do with that."_

Locking the metal toolbox, Eliot checked the area to make sure everything was cleaned and picked up and then headed for the kitchen. He arrived just as Rose tore the check from her checkbook and handed it to Paul.

"Ma'am," he said, tipping his head to her. He wasn't in a hurry to leave until he was sure Paul was going too.

"Got everything?" Paul asked as he folded the check and poked it into his jacket pocket.

"Yeah."

Paul was right behind as they got to the front door. Eliot paused and looked back. "You didn't have to charge her extra. It was a one man job," Eliot said in a low tone even as he pushed the door open and stepped out onto the porch.

"Call it a surcharge for the annoyance. You haven't dealt with these old prunes long enough to really get to hating them. In a week or two, you'll be wanting to tack on a service charge too." A beat. "Don't bother running to Lauren with this. How do you think I keep her little business afloat? She would do this for free if she had her way." A cold smile. "I'm sure that little girl of yours wouldn't be too pleased supporting a slacker again. Now pack up the truck."

Eliot bit his tongue and did exactly as he was told. He would be patient and wait.


	15. Chapter 15

Urgent, padding footsteps across the worn wooden floor of the Community Hope storefront. "Mrs. Holloway," Sylvia Carter called out as she approached Sophie.

The grifter turned and noticed the fleeting look of concern on the woman's face before it was masked with uncertainty. She offered up a warm smile. "What can I do for you?"

Sylvia was holding an open folder. "I'm looking at these last minute supporters you brought in." She shook her head. "I don't know how you got some of these businesses—I really don't—and some are big fish in the community."

"Call it my specialty," Sophie replied with a wink. She kept her smile though knowing where Sylvia's concerns lie.

There was a long pause before Sylvia spoke again. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I have deep reservations about Home Keepers. It is not our policy to recommend them."

Sophie took Sylvia by the elbow and lead her to the ring of chairs and out of direct earshot of most in the room. She caught Nate's eye before addressing Sylvia's concerns. "I understand there is bad blood between your organizations, but I believe you both have a desire to help the community in your hearts."

Hardison listened to the grifter through the earbud as he leaned back in the squeaky desk chair and looked at the monitor. The desktop system was too old and far too slow for his liking, but for the average person, or helpful organization, it would do. Reaching across the desk, he picked up a bottle of orange soda that he had grabbed at the convenience store down the street.

Across the desk, behind several stacks of folders and books on coping with grief, Hardison spied several framed photos. A picture of Sylvia and her husband—in his police uniform—a little boy and girl, and their dog. The same white ragamuffin that was sitting in the middle of the floor twisting her head around and watching people come and go. She had been way too interested in his shoes earlier.

There was just something about yappy little dogs that made him nervous.

The last photograph on the desk was of an older woman in her Sunday best, her gray hair pulled back into a bun.

Reminded him of his Nana.

"Excuse me, Mister," the words drifted off.

Startled from his thoughts, Hardison turned in the chair and found himself looking at the man from the photo approaching.

"It's just Alec," he said a little too quickly. Mentally reminding himself to not smile too much. "Officer."

"How about just Charles," the man replied and offered Hardison a firm handshake.

Realizing where he was, Hardison jumped out of the desk chair. "I was just finishing up," he said.

Charles stepped behind the desk and noted the web page splayed across the display. "I hate to say this, but my seven-year-old daughter is more computer literate than I am, but that website makes this place look almost professional."

"Social networking," Hardison said. "It's fast, it's cheap and you can get the word out easily." He leaned forward and took the mouse in hand. "I'll show what I've set up."

While waiting for the page to refresh, he glanced over the display to a table where Parker sat drumming her fingers behind a stack of envelopes that Nate had ordered her to stuff and stamp as punishment for her earlier excursion.

The young blond looked at Hardison and was about to get up to see what he was doing when she caught sight of Nate sitting at the other desk across the office in discussion with a man and a woman. She sank back into her chair and picked up one of the envelopes as if to do as she was told. She sniffed at the glue strip and wrinkled her nose, then she licked a section of the glue and tried to suss out the taste.

Nate had watched Parker on and off for nearly an hour. He guessed she wouldn't bolt anytime soon, but he knew he needed to sit down and talk to her.

He could almost hear Sophie admonishing him, telling him that this was a growth experience for Parker and that he should go easy. The problem being, if she was a loose cannon on a job where no one was likely to get shot at and not be called to the table for her actions, then what would happen the next time when the situation was more dire?

He would be firm with her.

Once he was free of the visitors, Nate crossed the large store front, eyeing the little white dog sitting near the entrance staring at him. It's pink tongue hung out in such a way that gave the dog a funny little smile.

_They had a little dog once . . . ._

He stepped around the dog and approached the table where Parker was still staring at the barely touched pile of invitations and envelopes. He sat down across from her and pulled a sheet of preprinted address labels toward him and started to stuff the envelopes and label them. He pushed the finished envelope towards Parker.

"Needs stamps," he said simply, but gave a little nod toward the stack of stamp books to Parker's left.

The thief straightened and then grabbed one of the stamp books. She opened it and studied the tiny artwork inside. After a moment, she leaned in and sniffed the stamps.

Nate tried not to pay her too much attention and kept stuffing envelopes.

After some hesitation, Parker peeled off a stamp and placed it in the corner of a finished envelope that Nate had sent her way. "I didn't blow the job," she said after a while. "Paul," she nearly hissed, "was too busy ripping Rose off to notice."

"Yes, but you could have endangered it." Nate stopped and looked at her. "Parker."

For a time, Parker kept her head low, her attention on the stamps as she poked at the tacky back of one. "I was worried about Rose."

"We are watching out for her."

"I know, but—"

"Do you trust me?"

A thoughtful look. She nodded. "Yes."

Nate smiled and pushed all of the invitations and envelopes toward Parker. "Good. Now finish these up."

* * *

><p>Paul sat in a darkened bar nursing a badly drawn beer. Any other time, he might have had issue with the quality of his drink, but at the moment, other thoughts kept his attention. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up but frowned and took another swig. His drinking buddy was running over thirty minutes late.<p>

His patience was growing thin.

More importantly, his thoughts kept going back to that pretty little blond in the pickup truck. Something was wrong, he just couldn't place it.

Again, he was drawn to the opening of the door and he let a little smile slip. "Hey, Howard," he said to the bartender. "Two whiskeys. Neat."

"Man, this better be worth having me drive all this way," Felix Gerhardt said as he took up the stool next to Paul and accepted the glass slid his way. He motioned to his recently smashed nose. "Alan wasn't too happy with me leaving." Silence as Gerhardt glanced about the sparsely populated establishment. He spoke in a low tone. "You bringing me more of your problems?"

Paul shook his head and followed with a draught of his beer. "There hadn't been any problems until that old codger tried to argue over a bill. If he had kept his mouth shut, he could have had a heart attack in his sleep and no one would be snooping."

Gerhardt frowned and nursed his drink. "You might keep your voice down." He glanced over at the beer in Paul's hand. Again, Gerhardt swept the patrons, they all carried a sense that they wanted to be left alone to their drink. Still, they shouldn't have met in a public place. Too many ears. "How many of those have you had?" he asked nodding to the beer.

"Third." Paul didn't touch the whiskey in front of him, but went instead for a manila folder he had placed safely off to the side. He handed it to Gerhardt who looked at him curiously. "Take a look."

"You know I'm not into that line of work anymore," Gerhardt said as he laid the folder on the bar top in front of him. He tapped the smooth card stock and then pushed the folder across the tabletop. Shaking his head as he stood back up. "No. Get someone else to do your dirty work. I'm out. And keep your junk jewelry."

Paul turned and grabbed Gerhardt by the sleeve to stop him from leaving, but found his right cheek pressed hard to the bar and a firm hand against his neck. He tried to shift, but his hand was twisted back, immobilizing him. "If I go down—"

Gerhardt leaned close. "Don't waste my time with idle threats." He released Paul and stepped back, but didn't turn his back on the other man.

Sitting up, Paul paused to check his arm. He was half surprised Gerhardt hadn't broken his wrist the way it had been twisted back. "Fine. You're not interested, that's your decision. I was just giving you first shot at revenge."

The words caught Gerhardt and he turned. His gaze shifted to the folder still on the bar. Reaching out, he caught the corner of the heavy stock and dragged it closer. Drawing up the corner, he shifted to look inside. A work application and a copy of a photo ID. The name said Noah Westerly, but it was the photo of Eliot Spencer that had his attention. He couldn't help the smile even as he lightly tapped his broken nose. "That's the bastard who helped the blond thief escape the shop a few weeks back." He looked to the other man. "How did you find him?"

From his pocket, Paul produced a small family photo he had swiped from Rose's house. "Look familiar?"

Gerhardt narrowed his gaze, recognizing Parker, who was photoshopped into a picture of Rose and her grandsons.

Retrieving the photo and slipping it into the folder, Paul then turned his attention on the other man. "Lauren is behind this. I knew something was up when she made me hire him." He set his beer down on the folder. He glanced about the bar making sure no one was listening. "I'll deal with her. The other two are yours."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **Thanks Mercedes, artychick7, and whovian42 for your kind replies. I truly do appreciate them. As much as I enjoy writing, hearing from readers is always a pleasure. There's only one chapter after this. I've already edited it and it should be up in a few days.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>In Play<strong>

There was a smell.

Parker sniffed the air. Not exactly rotten, but definitely not fresh. It kind of reminded her of that sweet, musty scent often found in forgotten storage rooms of old museums. A thousand years of dust on decaying cloth and paper. A little breeze shifted through the alley and carried the smell up to where the thief hung from a fire escape ladder. She hadn't noticed the odor at ground level.

From her high vantage point, she looked from one end of the the alley to another. The rumpled figure that had wandered through a few minutes earlier, prompting the change in scenery was no where to be seen.

She shifted on her perch, but the old fire escape, rusted from years of neglect clanged and vibrations rattled through it with even the slightest movement. "Shh," she whispered and shot the metal a sharp look.

Twenty minutes ago, Eliot had reported in and said he was on his way.

Nineteen minutes ago, she had grown bored of waiting and started to look for an alternative entrance.

Eighteen minutes ago, Nate told her to wait for Eliot.

The sound of foot falls drew her attention and she shifted carefully so not to rattle the old metal. She smiled when she recognized the approaching figure. Gripping the ladder, she flung her legs forward, somersaulting through the air, and landed easily on the rough ground in front of Eliot.

"About time."

"You were supposed to wait at the hotel," was the gruff response. Eliot shifted the strap of a canvas tool bag on his shoulder, but didn't slow his pace until he reached the back entrance to Home Keepers. Producing a jangling key ring from his jacket pocket, he unlocked the dead bolt and door.

"I could have picked those to save time," Parker said.

Eliot wordlessly held up the keys in one hand while he opened the door with his other. He let it swing all the way open and looked down the empty corridor. The overhead light left nothing to the imagination.

He then gestured toward the door leading to the front office. Parker nodded in understanding and held back while Eliot unlocked the workroom door. Inside, he dropped off the tool bag.

The door to the front office opened a crack. "Hello?" Stephanie called out.

Parker ducked into the workroom, while Eliot stepped out into the corridor. He reached back and tossed the thief the keys. "Second door to the right," he whispered before turning his attention to the woman at the end of the corridor. He gave Stephanie a slightly startled look. "I guess I'm not the only one working late today."

"I'm just here for another thirty minutes. Mary had an appointment so she can't be on call until seven. How did the Kravitz job go?"

"There was more damage than Paul's write up," Eliot said easily as he walked toward the waiting woman. "Took more time, but I don't think she'll fall through the step anytime soon." Stealing a glance at each darkened room he passed, he waited until he was at the open door. "Hey, since the office is open, do you mind if I look up something in the phonebook?"

"Oh, sure, no problem," Stephanie said as she opened the white door wide and let Eliot through.

Parker stuck her head out into the open corridor when she heard the door close. Leaving the keys on a nail inside the work room and certain that the woman was well occupied, she crossed to Paul's office.

Tools in hand, the simple lock gave without any effort. "That wasn't any fun."

* * *

><p>Seriously?<p>

Alec Hardison looked at his phone again and then up at the high ceiling of the not so well lit room. The website he had looked at for the Patterson Museum of American Art had been more promising. Not much, mind you, as there wasn't much to the small, two story building filled with galleries that looked more like flea markets than art displays.

He looked up again at the giant stuffed buffalo head that was glaring down at him. Shaking his head, he decided then and there he never wanted to come across a live one.

The only thing worse than the gallery of dead things filled with sawdust was the elevator music that permeated the museum. He had looked around for the source of coma-inducing sound, but only got eyed suspiciously by the museum staff. Not that they had anything to worry about, there wasn't anything worth stealing.

Seriously, what was he going to do? Tie the buffalo head to the top of Lucille? Nuh uh, no way. And those fake squirrels nailed to the fake tree with their creepy little black glass eyes? It was like the setting for some weird horror movie.

Looking for better surroundings, he weaved through a corridor to the next gallery. Paintings. A little more his speed. Well, at least not as disturbing.

He spied Sophie chit-chatting with a well-dressed couple.

After a bit, the grifter drew close. She looked about. "I've been in worse," she said in a low tone.

"Security's a joke." He activated his phone and studied the data splayed across the screen. Whispering. "I'm not even sure the alarm system works."

From their vantage point, they could see the entrance lobby through a wide, arched doorway. More people were arriving. "I don't mean to be undermining your mojo, but are you sure they bought into it?"

Sophie patted his arm. "Have faith."

Another scan of the busy room. There were a lot of people milling around, gathering in little groups discussing the various forms of support Community Hope offered. Amongst the well-dressed, there were also a lot of little grey heads. "They are taking their sweet time showing up." He studied the mobile again, checking the various traffic cameras he had hacked into.

Sophie shifted close and looked at the screen. "They aren't at the offices, so surely they are on their way. Besides, Eliot and Parker aren't back yet."

Hardison grinned. "Forgive me for my lack of faith." He nodded toward the main doors. "Incoming," Hardison said as he quickly blacked the screen and pocketed the phone as Lauren and Paul walked in.

Flipping back her dark hair, Sophie adjusted her dress as she focused on the arriving guests. "I'll take care of our friends." She painted a smile on and started for the couple.

* * *

><p>"Thanks, darling."<p>

That's all it took for a blush to rise to Stephanie's cheeks as she sank behind the desk. "Have a good evening," she responded.

Eliot nodded and closed the white door behind him. He huffed tiredly as he turned his attention down the empty hall. Pausing to note the slight burn, he checked his still discolored hand. One of the scabs over a knuckle had cracked and bright red threaded through it.

Passing quietly through the corridor, he noted that Paul's office was dark. At the workroom, he found the thief waiting.

"That wasn't even a challenge. Just a little Glenn-Reider 1400 model. I could have done that blindfolded." She brightened. "Blindfolded and upside down."

Eliot just shook his head. He opened the back door and thief skipped out into the alley. "I hope you found something," he said.

"Oh, I did!" she beamed. She held up a knotted blue handkerchief.

Recognizing the dual-tone pattern, Eliot checked his work coat pockets. "Parker?"

"I borrowed it," she said. "I think I found some of the missing pieces from Rose's list. She'll be so happy!" She put a little distance between her and the hitter. "Rose's ring, I mean, our ring, was in there, and there were three watches. One of them might be Bernard's." She turned to face Eliot, but kept pace with him while walking backwards over the rough alley floor. Her smile faded. "I," she stumbled over the words, "shouldn't have gone to Rose's."

The shadows to her right moved.

* * *

><p>Rich, coppery liquid splashed about the glass as it was roughly set down on the bar. A natural reaction would be to grab his ear that still rang from the close report of a gunshot across town. Skill kept his expression neutral as he picked the glass up.<p>

Sounds of a struggle quickly overtook the explosive remnant.

Raising the glass to his lips, Nate whispered: "Eliot? Parker? What's happening?"

* * *

><p>"Alec, right?"<p>

Hardison turned with a bit of surprise; he had been focused on the teeth-rattling gunshot and the following sounds of a scuffle. "Yes?" He looked at the plain clothed man, holding a glass and looking at a nearby painting.

Charles leaned in slightly. "I'm not into the people thing like my wife." He nodded back at Sylvia who was visiting with a small group. "Besides, she's doing her thing right now." He stared at a painting of a young girl in a field of sunflowers. "I'm glad you and your friends came along. I don't think Syl could take losing this too."

Hardison smiled as he looked around the open house. Sophie was being the intermediary between Lauren and Paul and others. He nodded toward the door leading to the storage. A smile. "It's nothing. We're glad to help out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Nate at the complimentary bar. The mastermind turned and nodded as he took a drink.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the replies **whovian42** (I haven't been called a cruel author in ages!), **Mercedes** (for sticking around through the long waits), **artychick7** (glad you found the story), **The Girl in the White Scarf** and **Yammy1983** (thanks for reading!).

* * *

><p>Sophie stole a glance about the room marking Nate and Hardison's positions about the banquet hall. She noticed Rose breaking free of the tables where a group of her elderly friends were gathered. She walked slowly, but eventually made it to where Lauren was getting a drink.<p>

"Hello," Rose said and offered a wrinkled hand to the other woman.

"Oh, Mrs. Brewer," Lauren said, sounding a little surprised as she shook Rose's hand. "How are you doing?"

Behind them, Paul shifted and glanced around. He pulled out his phone for the dozenth time since arriving and checked it.

Sophie steeled herself and approached the man. "Paul, am I correct?" she said in a sweet tone and offered him a warm smile.

"Yes." He quickly pocketed his phone.

She wrapped herself around his arm. "You should be proud of the business you work for. You've helped so many people." Seeing Nate approach, she waved to him. "Nate, darling, come here. I don't know if you have met Mr. Lumis. He's with Home Keepers."

Nate stepped close to Sophie. "Mr. Lumis. I'm Nathan Ford." They exchanged a firm handshake and a few pleasantries that Paul clearly wasn't interested in. Noticing Sylvia's distressed look, Nate excused himself.

Slipping his empty glass on a nearby table, he closed the space between himself and Community Hope's director.

"I'm still uncomfortable with your ideas, Mr. Ford," Sylvia said as she pulled him to the side.

"I understand—"

"Still," there was a reluctance in her words, "you've done so much in so little time." She shook her head and pulled away. "Ladies and gentlemen! I'd like to introduce some of Community Hope's supporters." She introduced the owners of Laundry King and Murphy's Donuts. They were met with polite applause.

Nate took up position at the edge of the room and watched the proceedings.

Sylvia's smiling demeanor hesitated as she approached Lauren. "This is Lauren Brandt and Paul Lumis from Home Keepers."

The moment the focus was on the couple, Nate shifted to the side and whispered, "Hardison."

The hacker grinned and keyed a sequence into his phone.

The elevator music that permeated every room went silent and Paul's recorded voice crackled about the hall. _"Call it a surcharge for the annoyance. You haven't dealt with these old prunes long enough to really get to hating them. In a week or two, you'll be wanting to tack on a service charge too." A beat. "If you tell Lauren about this, I'll bounce you so fast, you won't even feel your head hitting the ground."_

All eyes fell to Paul.

"That's the man who fixed my leaky roof," a little old woman, bent over a cane said as she pointed a boney finger at Paul. "He overcharged me and that's when my necklace disappeared.

"He fixed the tile in my bathroom and my change jar vanished!" another voice called out.

Paul retreated a few steps. "I don't know what any of you are talking about." He laughed. "You're all senile."

Rose took a few steps forward. "You hurt my friends."

"I expected you to be skimming from the jobs," Lauren said. "You were stealing from our clients?" She rushed toward him and grabbed his arm. "You monster!"

Swiftly stepping between Rose and the unfolding scene, Sophie moved the elderly woman safely to the side of the room. She stole a glance at Nate.

Charles stepped forward. "Let's settle down, everyone—"

Lauren screamed as Paul sent her flying into Charles. He bolted toward the double doors. Nate was in motion, he wasn't going to let the man out the door but Paul was too quick. Flinging open the doors, he rushed toward the main entrance.

And then promptly stumbled backward into the hall.

"I should have known," he hissed even as his head bobbed unevenly before he fell backwards. He hit the polished wooden floor with a thud and a jangle as jewelry tumbled from one of his coat pockets.

A single golden wedding band rolled across the floor, curving slightly and slowing before toppling into a spin in front of Rose.

"Oh, just like a piñata!"

Sophie turned to find Parker standing next to her grinning wildly. "Where did you," the words died on her lips. "Nevermind." In the doorway, she saw Eliot shake his head and walk off.

Rose carefully approached the unconscious man sprawled across the floor. She stared at an item half hanging out of his pocket. "Isn't that Bernard's watch?"

* * *

><p><em>"What kept you?" Nate asked.<em>

_ "We got held up," was all Parker said as she handed him the handkerchief full of items she had retrieved from the safe in Paul's office. _

_ "Just stay out of sight," he warned as he headed to where Sophie and Paul were standing. _

_ "Paul, am I correct?" the grifter purred giving him one of her special smiles._

_ "Yes." The man was very distracted and Nate was certain knew why._

_ When Nate approached Sophie, he met her slightly outreached hand and handed her the bag._

_ Sophie gave him that certain look as she lavished a little extra attention on Paul while slipping the contents into his coat pocket._

* * *

><p>"I was set up!" Paul called out. He pulled against the two uniformed officers that tried to guide him to the front doors. Spying Parker with Rose, he lunged for the two women, but lost his footing on the polished floor before being roughly dragged to his feet.<p>

"Stealing from little old ladies," one of the officers said with a shake of his head. "You're lucky you're getting out of here with nothing but a tap on the head." He looked back at Charles. "All kinds of crazy tonight. Across town, there's some guy duct taped to a light post in a parking lot. Best part is, he's got like six warrants against him."

As if a weight was lifted, Lauren sank to a bench against the wall. She leaned back and scanned the large room. People were gathered about, whispering softly. Some turning and looking at her. Across the way, she spied a familiar figure seated on a row of benches pressed against the wall.

She smiled when she caught his gaze and mouthed, "Thank you."

Eliot Spencer nodded in quiet acknowledgment.

* * *

><p><em>Lauren shut the door to her office and locked it behind Eliot. "Please," she said. There was fear and urgency in her voice. "I need your help."<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Coda<strong>

Parker leaned against the long table watching carefully as the old man across from her shifted three of the red disposable cups over the vinyl tablecloth. He lined them up neatly and took his hands away.

Without a word, the thief pointed to the cup on the right and the old man lifted it revealing nothing but empty tabletop.

Parker just stared as the man burst out into a wheezing laughter. He nearly lost his upper dentures as he was cackling so joyously.

"Quit cheating, Walter," Rose said from her seat next to Parker.

"What? I'm not cheating," Walter shot back with a wide grin. He raised an arthritic hand and motioned Parker to lean closer. When the young woman did, he reached behind her ear and with a flick of his fingers, made the little red sponge ball suddenly appear. "It was here all the time," he said with a mischievous look.

Parker returned with a bright smile and held up a watch.

Walter's grey eyes widened. He quickly checked his wrist only to find it bare. "Wait...how did you—"

Rose motioned excitedly to Parker. "It's magic!"

* * *

><p>As the excitement and the benefit started to wind down, Sophie found both Eliot and Hardison sitting on the benches against the wall. Hardison was involved with the small computer in his lap. He studied the screen intently. Eliot was a short distance away checking his injuries. A small, red gash under his right eye held the grifter's attention as she sat down between the two men.<p>

"How's everything going?" Hardison asked. He looked up, but his gaze went to Parker across the room who was surrounded by Rose and several of her friends.

"I think we did a little bit of good here." She leaned to her right and lightly bumped Eliot in the shoulder and gave him a warm smile. "I love a happy ending." From her vantage point, she watched as Lauren and Sylvia sat and softly visited. "I don't know if they will ever truly get passed their difference, but I think they might learn to work together. And of course, Rose and her friends got their help." She looked from the hacker to the hitter. "What are you wallflowers hiding back here for?"

Both men looked across the room to the free bar where a very small, elderly woman stood with a cane, oversized glasses and a bright yellow dress. As she toddled past Nate, the mastermind suddenly straightened with a startled look and stared at the grinning old lady.

Eliot and Hardison replied in unison: "Avoiding Granny Grab Ass."

_The end_


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